When I started at university, there was one thing that my friends noted about me. I compared people at home to people from my new life. I shrugged it off, thinking that maybe I was better at putting faces to others (if that’s a talent?).
It’s nearly six months in Brighton and it happened again last Sunday on the way home. Most of the time the people I put faces to are those I spent most of my time with – the annoying boys in the back of my class or that girl who I used to do maths with.
The person I had mistaken the stranger for was too, nearly a stranger. And as I walked past this girl it finally hit me. I was homesick.
I’m homesick for a place where nothing happens, for people I’m not that close to. But I am homesick. And every person that I had mistaken for another, it was a build up for my need to go home.
I can’t wait to be home in two weeks.