My Mumbling Thoughts

It started about three weeks ago. I was standing in the kitchen, looking out of our window at London's horizon. In my hand I had a cup of tea and I was thinking how lovely it all looked. I thought about the skies here and how they're different. They're not the same as the skies back home.

I miss home.

I haven't been able to shake the feeling since. It's like someone is fishing and I've got their hook stuck in my heart and it's tugging me back towards Heathrow asking for a one way ticket back to the states. I wouldn't look back. I just want to go home.

It kind of scared me how sudden and abrupt the change was. It's happened before but I never thought that it would happen to me and London. Never ever would I get tired of my city. We were always going to be together, holding hands and skipping in a field of daisies. We would continue loving each other and taking care of each other until we were both old and I was senile. That's what I was looking forward to.

But even still, the closest of friends need a break from each other every so often. They need to take a breather and be alone if only so they can miss their other half. Which is exactly what I need. Now.

I could have gone home during the Christmas break, but things were odd during that time. I was still kind of in a stress with Momma and wasn't exactly in the mood to go back and be with everyone. I wasn't ready to leave London and I really wanted Mel to come over so we could hang out here and I could show her my new world. Being able to share with Mel this entire new side of me was a great feeling and to be honest, I was quite proud of this little bit of corner that I have carved out for myself. Sure, it isn't anything great and it certainly is modest, but it's mine and I'm proud of it all. She needed to see it and experience it just so that she could feel how important it all is to me.

I've been doing a little counting though (not much since numbers make my brain hurt) and I've realized that come Valentine's Day, I would have been here for an entire six months. Six whole fucking months that I've been here. It's shocking really and frightening to think about for more than five minutes. I've been out and about in this big city all by my lonesome for the most part. Yes, I know I have my flatmates now, but we're all basically in the same boat, feeling out the new surface with our feet and testing things out to see if it's safe or not to walk on.

It is essentially the six months itch.

Oh, how the homsickness is starting to kick in for me. It's not because I'm skint though. I'm sure of it. First of all, I wouldn't be coming back with any money anyway since Momma has said that she wouldn't give me any. And second of all, I've been skint for a long while now and eventually you tend to forget just how poor you are. To drown it out I've been going out and partying, naturally. You'd be surprised just how drunk you can get when you've got absolutely no money to your name. Nothing. I literally don't have one cent to call my own. Is it a scary feeling? Kind of, yeah. Am I freaking out? Not so much...not anymore. I was scared in the beginning since I wasn't sure what I was going to do. I've always had money and got used to it being around. What I've learned is that I can get used to not having money as well. It's a different lifestyle, but it is possible. Trust me when I say that this is not going to be the norm for me. I do want a job, I do want to have money and I do want to be some kind of contributing member of society. It's just a little harder when you don't have a national insurance number. I wish I would have known about that before I came over here, but hey....shit happens. My appointment is on the 8th of February and I'll be sorted the moment I get that annoying thing that has been a royal pain in my ass ever since I first started looking for a job.

Until then, I've got some time on my hands. For the most part I've been watching everybody's box dvd sets that they have of different TV programs during the day and during the night, I go to the bar or my new favorite gay club called, Reflex. Yes, the gay scene is totally happening here and I'm deep in the mix of things. I'm not gay, but I do love all the people and the fact that I can go to a place that plays the perfect, cheesy music that I love to dance to and not worry about random guys trying to pull me. Life is so much happier amongst the rainbow lights, disco balls and poppers.

I have stories. I've been collecting them and safely filing them away in the back of my mind. I've done things that I've wanted to do, things that I thought I would never do and things that I've regretted. Everyone's jaws would drop and they would squeal, "no! Not our Sammi Jo! She'd never do such a thing..." But I have, and it was fun. I've had a good time and I'd love to take the time to write about them all in great length and detail. However, at this particular time I just want to curl up in my bed - my double bed - back in Virginia, stare outside of my window with my TV on quietly in the background and fall asleep knowing that Momma and Mel are only a couple of feet away. I miss my home. I miss walking around the townhouse in my jammies, not caring what I looked like, making a bowl of cereal and talking to Momma in the morning times before she darted off to work. I miss running out and getting lunch for everyone at the office. I miss sitting in traffic at the end of the day and chilling with myself. I miss, I miss, I miss so much. And I don't want anymore distractions from those thoughts. I don't want to go to another club, another bar, another pub, another house party, another drinking game, another spliff, or another anything. For once, I don't want it in the slightest.

I just want to go home. Please just let me go home.