This is my 14th day here. I guess the newness is really starting to wear off now. I’m feeling more and more homesick with each passing day. Some people told me that it would get easier. That I would get used to it. Some people were wrong. This sucks.

Oh, don’t get me wrong. I have managed to enjoy myself, just not as often as I’d have liked. Going down to Kent this past weekend was a lot of fun. It was really great to see some of my old friends and visit some of my old haunts. I’ve really missed living there, even more than I thought.

I’ve noticed that I don’t like to write anymore. It always seems like such a chore. And when I do manage to bang out some sentences, nothing flows. Nothing has rhythm. This is especially true when I try to write about the mundane events of my days and nights. So I don’t write about those things. I hardly write about anything.

It’s all I can do to keep from packing up my stuff and flying home. Is this job worth it? I haven’t seen her for over two weeks. And it’s going to be another two months. How am I supposed to function with that knowledge constantly beating away inside my head? Breathing is a chore, and yet I’m expected to work, eat, sleep?

I just don’t know.

Who am I going to be when I finally return home? Will anyone even recognize me? Will I recognize myself?