Homesick; at home, sick

Yesterday I realized that I've been home for less than three weeks. How can this be?! These last few days when I've been sitting home alone, translating stuff (did you know that translating is hard?? I had totally forgotten that), watching really bad German action shows (unsere Sicherheit ist ihr Job, ja?), drinking tea cup after cup after cup and burning a ridiculous number of candles I've felt as if I've always been here. Like all these past adventures really were a dream, like I finished watching the fourth movie of Harry Potter on the night of August 3, shut down the TV, fell asleep and woke up, having been magically teleported to Tallinn and it was winter. Not that going to sleep in the summer and waking up in the winter is all that unusual here - in June we had a heatwave, followed by snow (!!!), followed by another heatwave. But still. Everything feels so familiar, yet oddly off.
And then I feel like I never really came back and a part of me is still wandering around somewhere on the streets of Charleston or in Central Park or riding the rollercoasters in Orlando. And then I feel this almost unbearable "itching in my shoe" like Kimya Dawson would say and I just wanna gooooo. Anywhere, everywhere! Which is kind of convenient, considering I have plane tickets saying that I'm flying to Germany in three weeks but only for five short days! And then I wanna go to Germany (or Austria) for a year. And then to Peru for six months. And then live in Croatia, in a small house by the sea with mountains in the background - I'm currently looking for someone to join me there, any takers? But right now I have to get used to standing still again. It's weird.
Over these past three weeks there have only been 555 481 454 times when I've wished I could have sushi in Wasabi, then take a walk to the Waterfront with Thomas after dark, stop by at Sebastian's and have a drink with the unicorns and then stay up until 3 AM, plotting world domination with Teresa. It breaks my heart to think that these times are really over. But I guess there's nothing I can do about it except accept it and move on. Cause that's what grown-ups do, right?

If anyone is reading this, big kisses to you! I'll probably get lonely again soon and come blab about nothing and a little bit of something some more. It's slightly less creepy than talking to walls, which I've been doing for the past few days. That is, when I've not been waking up at SEVEN AM to go to the gym. Or cooking stuff that takes ridiculously long to get ready - like this chicken soup I've been making for the past 1.5 hours. Like seriously? Though I must admit, I did forget that I was making it a couple of times, so that might also be the reason it's taking so long. But I need chicken soup - because I'm sick! Kind of. Blaagh. Annnyway, getting off topic (if there ever was a topic). Finishing now, talk to you soon, Dear Diary.

Oh, and if anyone wants to send me postcards from exciting places, I would be so happy! Already got one yesterday and it was wonderful. I can give you my address on Facebook, or you can ask Sebastian, he has me in his Book.