I have yet to come to grips with leaving Leipzig.

Although my brain knows I’ve only paid rent until July, that the semester at University is over and the stay in London is like a stepping-stone to a flight back to New York, my stubborn little heart refuses to acknowledge it. My heart still believes I’ll be headed back to my familiar, cozy, tidy little room in Connewitz after a reckless jaunt in England, that all of my friends will once again be surrounding me and filling my life with joy and that Leipzig, the city I’ve come to love, will be right outside my door (just as it should be;) not to mention Berlin and the rest of Europe. It’s just utterly outside the scope of possibility that my reality could have been altered so much in a single day.

I’m honestly not sure I’ve made the right decision in leaving Leipzig this early in exchange for a week in London. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love Kate and I can’t wait to see her and spend time with her in one of my favorite cities in the world, but still a nagging doubt is tugging at me, telling me I should instead have been spending these last days in Leipzig. I could be lazing on the beach with Rosy and Natasha, dancing in the Ilses with Elli or eating lunch together at the Uni, biking to hidden party spots late at night with the whole gang, lying in the park on a Sunday afternoon with Miriam, stopping by Magdeburg to hug my Schwesterlein and Mutti, just making the most out of every last second I possibly could… however, it’s simply too late now. I’m on a plane, after a bit of a hassle at the border solved with a grin and an “I didn’t know any better!” type of look, flying over mainland Europe, on my way to foggy London town, and there’s no turning back now.