I’d admire the people that are constantly saying goodbye to their loved ones. Whether they travel/leave for work, leisure, education or adventure it still takes great courage to face the people that truely care about you and not know when you’ll see them again. I understand it can be selfish because you’re not the only person who will be missing people because they’ll be missing you even more, not knowing if you’re safe and constantly missing chances to chat due to time zones. 

In the past 8 months I’ve said goodbye to my parents 3 times, and whilst it’s getting easier and I don’t bawl anymore there’s still a heart shattering moment, the eyes burn and you never want to finish the hug. I always imagined I’d be fine when I left, I’ve done it so many times before for school trips, holidays, experiences but with those times there was always the calming subconscious knowing the end date, the exact date I get to see their faces again. 
When I first came to England for two months in 2011 to experience boarding school, the constant movement and adventure gave me ease knowing it was passing so fast that I need not worry. I worried for reasons I had no control over, for that facts I was left out of the loop for because my family knew I’d be on the first plane home. But during those two months I never once felt guilty, technically I was at school and learning. These months now I feel guilty. This time I chose to leave with no end date, so much I want to do but I really just want my family and friends. 

Since coming back again I’ve told myself that I don’t have plans, I can book a flight home any day, I live my life to the fullest till I can’t anymore. Living in London means you will always be saying farewell to new and dear friends,  never knowing when you’ll see them again. For many the seperation is too much and the comfort of home is too luring.

I met an Australian a few months ago who had just arrived, spent two weeks here and decided it was too much. I admire that she could put all the fears of failure behind her and accept that this wasn’t who she was or what she enjoyed. She was strong enough to go back home after all that it takes to get here. 

I mean most people my age want to move out, live on their own and be independent; right now I’m dreaming of the day I get to move back into my parents house, mum does my washing and dad cooks me nutritiously adequate breakfasts. Where the time spent with my brother we’re probably fighting but it’s normal instead of now during my visits we’re almost too nice to each other because we don’t know when we’ll see eachother again. 
I arrived back in London three days ago from a whirlwind trip to Australia to surprise my parents for my dads 70th, today I sit in Stansted airport ready to fly to Shannon, Ireland to finally be reunited with my best friend. It might not seem that long but for two 18/19 year olds 8 months feels like a life time. 

So whilst goodbyes suck and no matter how selfish they are, they might just be worth it for the right people who understand the need of growing up and learning through adventure. 


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