So on a school trip, I went to London. Did all the dumb American stuff they tell you not to do on accident, because I was a dumb 17 or 18 year old from the rural south. I was severely depressed, and didn’t think I was even going to be alive by the time the trip rolled around. My friends and I got yelled at by a homeless man, got lost, joined a social protest, ate at little shops. Walked through little grocery stores away from the tourist attractions and did our best at subtle people watching. We got on the tube all the time (I LOVE those things) and I drew people, my friend and I stayed in a park full of strange flowers and nice pigeons and we just laid there because it was the soft grass, not the painful grass with burrs back home.
I miss the tea shops. Do you know how hard it is to come by good tea? And books. We only have the local library here. The closest book shop is 2 hours away.
I think about the trip all the time, and while I’m in a much better place than I was before,I still miss it. I miss the people I’ll never know. I have never felt more alive since then and I am afraid I never will.
All the same, I don’t know if I would live there. It’s so far from family. I don’t know if I would make it on my own, I’m very “southern hospitality.”
It’s been a dream of mine to move away from my hometown, but I keep self sabotaging myself. I’m half way through a fully paid for computer engineering degree. I hope to leave afterwards but I don’t know. I wish I understood this nagging feeling better. I’ve travelled across the ‘states and I’ve really liked some places, but not like I liked london, but I’m not sure why, and I’m not sure if it’s for any objective reason.
Read more: reddit.com