Going home. Going home for me is a difficult thing. Obviously I look forward to seeing my family, to spending Christmas with them, to having the security that comes with all that. I look forward to being in my own house (as I live with a host family in England) and being able to cook ma own food (or eat what my mum makes for me, cause let’s be real, that’s  just the best).

But then on the other hand, I always get really nervous before I go home. I’m scared I won’t know how to act around my family anymore, I’m scared that the relationship we have won’t be the same as when I last saw them three months ago. And then of course, there is the town I live in. I’ve had a lot of bad experiences there and really don’t have any friends there and when my parents and siblings aren’t around (which happens a lot, especially when they are still working/in school/university), I am pretty much all alone.

So I guess, when I say I’m going home, I really mean that I’m going to see my family, I’m going to stay in the house that belongs to them for a while, I’m going to take a little break. I don’t necessarily mean I am going to the place, the town, the country I feel the most comfortable in. Because really, I prefer speaking English, I like having the possibilities of stuff to do I have here and I love that I have friends here who I can always hang out with and who I know are always there for me.

So that’s what I’m going to do in a couple of days. That’s where I’m traveling to. Not necessarily my only home, but one of them.