I hate coming home. Not because home is terrible but because home is home and my heart is here and every time I sit in this airport waiting to board a flight back to Jamaica my heart breaks. Sometimes I simply want to stop – come home, write an email to my lecturers and tell them that I’ve changed my mind and I’m not coming back. My comfort zone is tantalising and alluring, constantly provoking me to abandon what I’ve started and return to the place where I’m happiest and unchallenged. I’ve put on a brave face for my family and friends, but my heart is completely shattered and my eyes have felt the sting of tears during this past week too many times for my comfort. This is my second trip home in eight months and just as the time before this, I’m contemplating tapping out.
I’m at a point in life where all that I’ve done so far can be compared to little pieces of a picture and while I imagine the final product will be something offensively beautiful I’m not certain what it’s supposed to look like so I can only hope that all the pieces will fit together perfectly in the end. I chased after academia because he seduced me and I gave in but now that we’ve laid together I look at him and question what about him was so appealing that I decided to leave home and pursue sleepless nights at his Cabana in a foreign land. Hopefully, this is a phase, and soon I would shake this sullen feeling and be back to my bubbly, energetic self; taking on new challenges and making my mark on the world!
For now, however I am sad and I wish I didn’t have to leave this beautiful island and my amazing family to go back to Jamaica.