2012, thus far, is a big pile of crap.
On April 30th, all of this will come to an end, and I will breath a massive sigh of relief. I know I'll be sad to leave some of the people I've met here - some people that even after 3 months, have proven themselves as genuinely amazing friends - but I think it'll feel strangely uplifting just getting the hell out of here. I won't have to worry every second I'm alive about not understanding anyone in the world around me. About knowing the phrase IL A ROMPU AVEC MOI just in case someone asks why I'm sobbing into my soup. In England I could just scream obscenities at them and they'd understand and leave me alone.
I have few grumbles today, as in a shock twist, even I have limits. And I'm feeling a bit too empty to grumble about trivial things (this I am certain will not last long).
When I got up this morning, I imagined that the blue sky and the sunshine would seem disgusting, that people laughing would make me vomit everywhere, that even talking to my friends would cause me actual physical pain. But it all feels fine. It just seems somehow besides the point.
Life isn't much like how art portrays it to be. This isn't a huge dramatic event, where he leaves me and I die an agonising and drawn out death. My life isn't going to fall apart and I will not just go mental. I refuse. Everything will be the same. It will just be a lot harder. And with a lot less smiles.
I'll be fine. (Cough).
Not much love left, H x
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