I never would have imagined that I would feel so incredibly home sick.
I miss everything about being home. And the only thing I can think about is returning.
I’ve never been away for so long.
The past few weeks have been extremely challenging.
So I wander around the internet looking at plane tickets and bus tickets.
I could just leave.
I could just go back home at any moment.
But there’s a very large part of me telling me to stay. To ride out this journey a little longer.
In another month, I’ll be in New York.

I don’t think I’m as cut out for perpetual traveling as I originally thought.
I worry about so many minute details of absolutely everything. I am not care free. I am constantly stressing myself out.
At least when I was stressed out at home I had my friends and family near by.
And running water.
And a bed to sleep in.
And electricity so that I could read in the wee hours of the night when I have insomnia.
Insomnia is quite possibly one of the worst things about this whole trip. I can’t read after dark because I can’t see. I somehow managed to snag the internet from someone’s house nearby but my battery on my laptop is nearly dead. I can’t charge my phone. I can’t charge my camera battery. I can’t edit pictures.
This has become a nightmare.
I wanted so badly to believe that I was more than capable of living this life on the open road but I’ve been absolutely miserable.
There are moments when I am happy with this decision.
But there are many more when I regret leaving everything, and everyone, behind.