Homesick.

I’ve bet you’ve been when you’ve been away from you family too long. I know I have. But never before while travelling. It may be strange how I nearly cry on the plane every time I have to leave Paris, but it’s still the truth. Of course it’s always good to come home, but I’ve never really missed it, like in that I’ve wanted to go home in the middle of a trip. This time I did. It was weird in a way, but maybe it was good as well. Human. Missing my friends, my dad and my boyfriend, and most of all missing my cat.
    I never went home though, and I’m happy I stayed. The world is a book and those who do not travel read only one page. I don’t want to finish the book in a long time, but being home at last, I’m eager to read the next chapter.