Right now I'm sprawled out on the sofa on my parent's patio, wrapped up in a light blanket, listening to the late-summer rain fall around me, Noah and the Whale playing in the background. I just want to be alone here in this moment. I don't want to go anywhere, and I don't want to see anyone, and I don't want to do anything. I just want to be alone and quiet.
But I'm returning to the bustle of London in 5 days, and I've got far too many goodbyes (and hellos) to say before then, and so much to do to get ready. Oh, London. You seem so far away from me right now. And I'm afraid to return to you. I don't want to start living again, just yet. And London forces me to live, or even more, to fight to live. And that reality, as I lay here listening to raindrops fall on the green leaves of the backyard garden, is a bit overwhelming. I'm not sure I'm ready to fight again. Yet.
