"So, how is Florida? You look so happy in all of your pictures!"
I get this a lot. And I always say pictures tell the pretty story and writing tells the honest story.
So honestly, there is a lot you don't see. You don't see the early morning wake up calls, the dark circles under my eyes because the sleep wasn't good and the coffee wasn't strong enough. Or the pain in my feet as they hit the floor because standing for 10 hours a day in non-slip/stick shoes is probably the worst thing you can do to your body. You don't see the homesickness that I have been finding in myself or the way I miss having my own room and bathroom and just a quiet space I can go to be alone. You don't see the way I look around the corner everyday waiting for my best friend to walk out of building 6. The way I look for those familiar faces on the bus in matching costumes. The way I expect my old roommate to be sitting on her bed when I get home to chat about our days, or to wake up in the morning and have breakfast with my old roommate the way we did so many times before.
Every one says "you can go back, but it will never be the same" and you don't see the way that I told myself that many times, but clearly my head was not convinced.
This is the first time I have really sat down to write since being here. It is raining outside like it has been for the past week and a half. I haven't slept well in days, I took a math midterm today and then went back to sleep and just woke up with half of the day behind me. And now I have hit a writers block, so I'll have to cut this one short.
For those of you still wondering, Florida is good. [and I fought for a while to choose a different word for good and what I came up with was the cats pajamas, the bees knees, super duper. Anything that would make it sound exciting and better than satisfactory.] It is whatever you want to make of it and believe it is.
Florida is good. And I am happy. But the happiness doesn't always come easy.