There is no suitable way to describe the above concept. What a mixed bag of feelings. As I flew over a foggy London this morning, arriving into Heathrow, I could not help but feel a surge of pride at the sight of my city, the confusing, interweaving streets, compared to America's blocks, and the thought of arriving to fog and rain excited me. A proper homecoming, if you will. I love England.
However, home was a different matter. Not to say I do not love coming home. Not at all. I was looking forward to coming home. But everything happened at once. Mum wanted the laptop, to go on holiday. She was running about sorting things out before the left. I spoke a few harsh words. I managed to forget my PIN for my debit card, so I can't send the money to Jonathan and Destiny. I was tired, having not slept in 24 hours. I was a bit icky, having not washed in the same time. Everything happened, and I didn't like it. I remember thinking that I just want it all to stop. Just so I can be, momentarily, and not be doing.