Lying on my bed, I'm mulling over stuff I've yet to accomplish before my flight back to the US next week. Exactly one week to go, and I'll be going home.
Home. My home is now halfway across the world, far away from my motherland.
For quite some time now, I've observed some lacking emotions on my part while traveling. Yes, I like to travel. I love exploring new places, and experiencing new things. Thus, I expect to feel excitement: a wonderful mix of anxiety and anticipation, whenever I venture out to the world. But it seems that I'm not feeling that way anymore... At least, not as intense as I would expect. Nowadays it's like, ok, I'm going somewhere again. Let's get this over with.
But now, thinking about my forthcoming trip back to the US, I observe that there's this feeling of sadness building up inside me, a heavy feeling upon my chest, and a sense of regret because I'll be leaving behind people that are close to my heart. I think about how much I will miss this place again... and I cry.
God, I really love it here.
As the wave of emotion ebbs away, I'm left with a thought: Fascinating how I feel more emotional when I'm going away, compared to when I'm coming back.