I actually left…

Stress, stress. Panic, panic.

We’re sitting on the runway. We’re waiting. We’re leaving.

When did we get to this point? Where did study abroad go?

I feel a little bit overwhelmed, but mostly dead and emotionless. It’s not hitting me. I’m not processing what it means to leave. All I know is that I have a sad feeling somewhere and I’m not sure what to expect when I get somewhere else.

[shut off computer for take off]

Whenever I’m on planes going somewhere, I have this weird habit of thinking about the plane ride home. I imagine it in vivid detail, what it will be like, what I will be wearing, the feeling of seating in these seats again. It’s the one thing that I can know at that point, so I think about how, in X amount of days I’m going to be on a plane again, things will have happened, I will feel something towards what is currently an unknown and time will have passed. I know that this isn’t the most productive or beneficial habit because it just causes me to live in the future and miss things going on in the present. But I still do it and I still find it really weird when I really am on that return plane.

But here I am. Sitting in seat 7A next to two old French men, who from the looks of it, didn’t enjoy their plane food. I thought it was phenomenal, partly because I’ve been eating rice and loka (anything that’s not rice) for 4 months, but also because that food was just good. But, as I’m sitting on the return plane, I’m…. I’m… confused? Emotionless? Processing? Nothing really. I’m just functioning on a very shallow level. A level  that doesn’t include thinking beyond “this food is good” “these seats are SO comfortable” “there’s cheese in the meal!” No comparisons. No analyzing. No deeper thought. Maybe I’m hoping that the crazy turbulence happening right now will only result in minor typos and not death.

This entry really isn’t saying much… but it’s all I’m capable of saying about the feeling of leaving Madagascar. I don’t know.. I’m upset. But for a lot of reasons that are beyond the physical leaving of this crazy, crazy country. I’m afraid of coming home.