home.

I've got a bad feeling about this.

I just got back from my trip the other day and it was brilliant. I met Brits who invited my brother and I over to England to visit them at the end of the summer (and were sincere about it). I made an American Marine jealous to the point of blackout drunken rage stumbles on the beach at five in the morning. I stayed up late, shut the club down every night, tried different food and drinks, got introduced to new films and programs, learned what the word "daft" means and how to use it in a sentence, swam in the ocean, laid in the sun, rolled in the sand, drank in the pool, laughed at large women in small bathing suits and large men in banana hammocks, and spent lots of time with my family, especially my brother.
It was beautiful, hot, and fun.
What more could I ask for? Maybe fore this tummy ache to go away, but in due time it will.

What sucks is coming home to you, and you act like you're not interested anymore. Maybe you're not. Or maybe you're just too busy. But it feels like you only want it when it's convenient for you. You don't want to get serious because maybe what you said about making out with other girls is true...maybe it did happen and maybe you don't care. If that's the case, somehow I'll let go. Don't you worry. I'll be just fine.

I start work May 10th now, apparently. I have my brother's car until the 14th. I start my summer course on the 13th. I'm going to be busy as fuck. Much too busy to think of you and worry if you're being faithful or not. So have fun. Live it up. You're 27 and you've only been in love once. Fall in love again, whether it's with me or not. I'm not holding my breath, and it feels just fine.