Have you ever gone to a party or an event with your friend and felt a little uncomfortable, probably because it’s actually your friend who was invited, or maybe it’s because it’s all of her friends? Or maybe it’s just that you’re not vibing with the atmosphere. The air is thick with a sense of unwelcomeness. It’s nothing personal or anything against you. It is the way that it is, and you are the way you are.
I think that best describes how I feel all the time after returning home. After spending roughly 8 weeks abroad, I don’t feel the same comfort and ease in the United States as I once did. I used to be homesick, only just a little, during my time in Spain but now…. now I have this strange reverse homesickness. I feel like a puzzle after a child has ripped out a few pieces with the potential of them never returning.
Deep right? and oh so melancholy. That’s life though, and that’s what traveling can do to you. As I sit here typing this I’m filled with sadness and indecision. My entire life changed and then changed again, but not for the better. I miss the long lunches at 2 o’clock with my Spanish family, the late nights with my friends and watching the sunrise the next morning because we stayed out too late (it was never TOO late to party in Spain to be honest). I miss walking everywhere I went and spending the majority of my time outside. I miss watching Rick and Morty in Spanish, and then promptly in English because it was too fucking weird for me and listening to my friend Javier play the piano. I miss it all, and I can’t have those times back, but I’m sitting here waiting to make more memories next semester.
They say you don’t know the water you’re swimming in till you’re out of it. I’ve never thought a statement so true in my life.