To the UK

I haven’t written on here in so long that they have changed the entire WordPress layout. How wondorous.

I fly out of the UK the day after tomorrow and I would be lying if I said I am not filled with a hint gladness. The UK has given me lots – great friends, brilliant memories, experiences that have mended a series blemishes that had once fuelled my personality, a whole set of new blemishes to mend, a 2:1 degree. Gosh, the list could go on.

Actually, that last thing I attained for myself, the UK was but a means of attaining it. Like a kitchen. Or an Oyster card. An Oyster card helps you attain travel, but you have to do the travelling on your own. What a lousy example.

Despite all that the UK gave me, I feel foreign in it. And I’ve tried for days and days to understand why this is so, but my comprehension has failed me over and over again. I have, however, come to understand a somewhat plausible reason. I fell in love with the UK before I had been here. And that isn’t love at all. It was more of an idea that I had fallen in love with. An idea of what I expected the UK to be, and idea that the UK would automatically clarify my whole life to me, and it did, to a certain point.

I guess I had built too strong a foundation based on a mere set of ideas, and consequently, the foundation broke. A foundation is often the core of a much bigger picture, and a damaged core requires ample amounts of fixing. And I was unable to fix the core. And maybe that is why the UK is foreign to me – it couldn’t give me home.

This perhaps is why there is a hint of gladness; I simply do not love the country. And I am sorry.

I am so sorry.

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