I thought when i left London, i was going to be devastated, in fact miraculously i didn't cry the night before... it was such a weird feeling to walk by the streets of London by night and look at all the amazing old buildings and breath the cold air and feel my cold hands on my face. Strange, very strange, people would think that when you lose something the natural human reaction is to cry... but i guess something was different or at least i thought so.
I spent some time thinking about all the things i've done in London, and all the things i didn't get to do and the amazing people i got to meet and how this whole experience changed my life in ways that i never expected. You would think it is hard to leave a place where your root started to extend and where you did things you never thought you would do... but think again whatever feeling you think it's proper for that kind of situation is never going to be the same as when you actually are in that situation. Rambling much? I think so... there's a reason why i started this blog anyways.
So there I was, boarding a plane that was gonna take me away from the place and took away my heart and the place where i spent the happiest and ironically the most miserable times of my life (don't regret any of it though). It was time and i hadn't cried... i mean seriously i was thinking to myself aaah why am i not crying? mmm you might think but why would you wanna cry? well i didn't but i did feel like i was holding myself back... but the time came, to depart, that time where you hold on tight to your seat because the force of the speed sinks you to the back and you feel that funny feeling in your stomach when the plane's wheels stop touching the airstrip... it was there and then when my tears started to flow... when i saw the city losing itself in the fog, when i couldn't see anything else but a gigantic cloud and when the plane got so high that it reached the blue and the blinding light.