on the move.

So here I am, sat on my windowsill, looking into a bare shell which I call my bedroom. The desk is empty, the walls are no longer plastered with train tickets, receipts, stickers, photos and letters. My wardrobe is bare, except for the hundreds of stuffed toys which will be left here. This time tomorrow, I shall be in England, and I won't be coming back.

It's strange really. I have spent most of my life here, desperately wanting to move back. But now the day has come, the past two years of hard work have led me to this moment, and I am scared. To think I'm going to wake up in my new home, and not hear the clatter of my mother's heels as she rushes round the house getting ready for work, or getting greeted by my dogs Tilly and Kobi. I'm not going to be able to go to my sister's window for a cigarette whilst we watch funny videos on youtube. I'm not going to have the life that I have grown up with. I am going to step into this country, and know that I will never live in Spain again. I will never live with my mum and my sister again. I'll be the daughter who comes and visits most holidays, the sister "who lives in England".

I'm completely and utterly procrastinating at the moment. I've smoked far too much and I have two suitcases filled to the brim with clothes and personal belongings. I am dreading the moment, when everything is set and I am stood in my new home with my boyfriend and my mum and knowing they're going to leave and I'm not going to see them for a few months or so. That moment where I'm going to have to say goodbye.

I should get back to packing. Blah.

I am so depressing at the moment. I should be thinking about this as the beginning of a new chapter in my life! New people and new places await me!

I am thinking like that. Just the other half of me is absolutely terrified.