Just when I find tears in my eyes, from my own homesickness, Janine sums up everything I would want to say in words far better than my own.

There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed. --Ernest Hemingway

I’ve been having this nagging feeling deep in my gut the past few days, and it’s taken me a long time to figure out what’s really going on. This is hard for me to talk about, but I strongly believe that the hardest topics to write about are the most worth it, so here goes:

I’m homesick. I was last home almost 7 months ago, making this the longest I’ve been away from home in my entire life. People don’t realize that even though I’m independent and crave freedom when I’m at home, I still miss it when I’m away for long periods of time. See, I’m living here to go to university, and coming all the way out here was 100% my own choice. I’m the one who dreamed up an escape and then packed my car and fled. I’m the youngest child of 4, but oddly enough I…

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