solitude.: my home away from home.

It's strange to think the last time I updated this I was in Spain. Now I'm at university, sat in my bedroom at ten to three in the morning finding it hard to sleep.

It was hard, leaving my sister. She cried down the phone at me whilst I was in the queue waiting to board my flight, and that was terrible. Then, soon after, I had to leave Elliot. A few days after that, my mother left. And that was that, I was left to resume my life in the most different of ways, having no clue what to do or who to talk to and it felt like my first day at school in Spain. Everyone was speaking this alien language, and I felt so alone. Yet this time, I was with people that had all moved away from home, we had something we could all relate to, and everyone felt alone in their own way.
My flat is on the top floor, giving me the most amazing view from my room and living room. I have my own bathroom, and I was miraculously given a double bed even though the system told me I was only getting a single. Not going to lie here, my room here is nicer than the room I have in Spain, and the bed is a lot comfier too.
It's been nearly a month since I've seen my mum, my sister and my boyfriend. Luckily, in 9 days, I shall be reunited with both Ciara and Elliot and I have never been so excited about anything before in my life.
It's so strange opening my door to a vast hallway that echos and going into a kitchen that doesn't constantly smell of my mother's cooking. It's peculiar not getting affectionately attacked by my dogs like they haven't seen me in an eternity every morning. I also miss my cat.
I find myself cuddling with my childhood teddy Catnap every night when I go to sleep, and the large void in my bed is something that I cannot ignore as much as I try.
The hardest thing is every weekend, watching students drag behind them small suitcases as they go home for the weekend. This also happens with my flatmates, meaning I'm alone most weekends. I'm not exactly alone, there is one other flatmate who is from London, but we don't talk after he told me I was "fucking disgusting" for being bisexual and he keeps stinking out the flat with his vile drug habits. So yes, I am on my own most weekends.
Course wise, I am loving being a trainee journalist. Our class is small, as the 18 (including me) that attend these lectures were selected from 650 applicants. That made me feel kind of special. Our tutors are also lovely, one of them peculiar, but that makes him more interesting to listen to in my opinion.

I shall leave you with a few photos. Until next time...