An absolute mess (this was my first time overseas), I landed on the tarmac and didn't care about anything else. I was glad my previous home of London was now 17,000 kilometres, or 11,000 miles, away. Stepping out of the airport with Mister and Dad by my side, I couldn't believe how amazing the air smelt, and smiled the whole way home. It was over.
But now, this strange feeling is starting to take over me. I find myself looking at world maps with a devilish grin on my face, and feel my heart sink whenever I hear anyone else talking about their upcoming trips. A friend of mine is spending a semester of university in London and I can't even begin to tell you how this makes me feel. Miserable comes to mind. I'm sure some of you can sympathise. I miss London with all of my heart. I feel like a left a part of myself there, and what makes it worse is that I left Europe crestfallen and on the verge of a breakdown.
On Monday I want to run off to Thailand and spend two weeks volunteering at an elephant conservation. On Tuesday I talk to Mister about moving to the United States for a year. On Wednesday I see cheap flights to Morocco. On Thursday I look forward to our trip to Daydream Island. And on Friday I dream of trekking around South America. I am bored of Melbourne already and all I can dream about is when I will finally be able to leave again and reclaim that part of myself that I left on the other side of the world.
In my bedroom I keep a map of the world covered with permanent marker and highlighter scribblings. I want to eat food from all over the world and learn about every different culture. I have itchy feet, and I've haven't even been home for five months. All I worry about now is that this feeling won't go away until I explore every single inch of the globe. All I know is that I won't be satisfied until I do. This is such an exciting (and impoverished!) time of my life.