3 more days and 1 french paper are what separate me from my flight home. a part of me has yet to miss home, wondering what's the big deal about all this homesickness everyone tells me i'm bound to experience. i just think we, as humans, miss familiarity; but adaptation is always the key.
disaster strikes yet again in the packing (just for a mere 3 fucken weeks), as somehow i've managed to amass a ton of things. it bewilders me - my room is but only a jail cell equivalent. kinda.
so await me, my plight does. but only after the debauchery!
disaster strikes yet again in the packing (just for a mere 3 fucken weeks), as somehow i've managed to amass a ton of things. it bewilders me - my room is but only a jail cell equivalent. kinda.
so await me, my plight does. but only after the debauchery!
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