After being at home with my family and boyfriend, seeing friends and generally enjoying being back in my homeland it is safe to say that I did not want to return to my year abroad. I think this is quite understandable given the joke of a uni here, the heavy work load and the homesickness (all explained in previous posts).
So 4.30am I got up this morning to make the 2hour trip to Gatwick, then to fly for 2hours, to take the bus from Malaga Airport to Malaga Coach Station, to take the coach for 2hours and finally to take the bus from Granada Coach Station back to my flat. That doesn't sound too appetising at the best of times but imagine having to do all that travelling when you really don't want to go.
I saw many happy holiday makers at the airport excited about their breaks away to hotter countries and was sad that I couldn't feel excited about the prospect of my journey away. I knew something they didn't though, although they would enjoy their holidays of 7 or 14 nights, most of them would probably look forward to returning home again at the end, back to their creature comforts and to where they belong. I don't have that privilege.
Referring back to the title of this post I want to describe to you how I feel every time I have to say goodbye to my lovely mum, sister, grandad and boyfriend. It hurts so badly it is like a physical pain deep in my chest. It makes my throat swell up as I try to choke back the tears. It is such a deep pain inside that no matter how hard I try to swallow my tears, it is impossible and they come streaming out.
So that is one of the reasons why I dislike being on the year abroad so much, I hate not being with the ones I love the most.
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