This week is a killer for feeling lost.
I feel like being closer to my home town could help, because my closer family live there and I crave their company regularly. On the other hand, I remind myself that leaving that place was my greatest achievement and how miserable I was living there.
I love the independence of living nowhere near the family, especially when I live in London. But times like this make you want the love more really available. I can rely on my boyfriend for that most of the time, but what about when that’s not enough?
My other half has given our relationship a couple of bumps in the duration so far. Nothing I can’t forgive and nothing too terrible, but sometimes a week apart would be good so he can properly feel the effect of his actions. At the moment because we live together, it’s just not practical to opt for the silent treatment! And neither of us can afford to rent a room somewhere just for that luxury.
Growing up sure is difficult.
Last night I looked though old birthday cards and found one from my aunt who passed away in July this year. It was the last card I received from her. It shook me and I would never have expected such a small thing to get me in such a big way. I miss her all of the time and I really did love her a great deal. I hope she knew.