This

i know this with surety, in a way that i have not known it before this. i dont want to go back, and I have to leave. I don't know why, I suppose I am unhappy there. I think I am, though I dont notice it every day. I keep myself busy, there are things that I enjoy, and I deal with life. I dont stop to ask too many questions. I am only noticing it now - I think I am realising that I am going back to a place where I am alone, although I have never minded being alone before, and I am returning for a little while, a few months before I step into the unknown. The unknown should be frightening but it seems to be much more appealing than this familiar. I know there are good things to come, there must be. This familiar has certainly given me a great deal but it has also taken away a lot from me. I dont want to lose my integrity. I asked for the newspaper and I began to read it until I realised that I dont actually care what is happening there. I dont want to catch up with the news I missed. It doesnt matter to me. It did once. I thought I was going back home. Now I don't think of it as home - I don't think of any place as home. And that is a strange, strange feeling.