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I am thinking of going back home. Back home across the sea to where I’ve lived for the past eighteen years. Sweden.
I’m in London right now. I got into a university in London and I had dreamt about going for almost six months. Harry Potter. Brick Lane. Finding a cute boy with a cute accent and falling in love with him.
Only I fell in love back home. Two months before I left, I met a boy and I fell in love with him. You know how they say that when you know, you know? It feels like I know. I know it’s silly to say because I’m so young, but I want to marry him and grow old with him with all of my heart. He wants it too, he has told me on bended knee that he wants to spend his life with me.
It has always been long distance. 200 miles, a bit more. Four hours by train every other weekend. But I could handle that. 12 days between each time. It was hard and awful, but I knew that we could do it.
But this is like tearing a little bit of me apart every second. Another country, no possibility to see each other more than maybe once a month. He can’t afford it and I can just scrape by.
He’s moving here with me next year. It was decided before we had even dated a month. We’ll be in London together and finish school and then who knows.
I miss him so much it hurts me. I want to go back home, interrupt my studies, return next year with him and do it right. Take a course or two at university back home for the spring semester and plan it out properly so we can see each other more often.
I want to choose love because he’s my world. Because he’s the best person I’ve ever met.
I know he’s worth it. If ever there was a person who was, he would be it.
I’ve applied to this school, gone through all the mess, been through all the motions to do this and I’ve spent a lot of money to be here. But it just doesn’t feel worth it anymore, and I don’t know what to do.
- kajsa
