Life's like a novel with the end ripped out.

Here's a little ranting.. I guess.

This whole summer is bittersweet, for realz, but this in particular is the most:
I'm leaving Barcelona in 6 days. And honestly, I'm really excited to go home for a while and then start life in Syracuse again. Really excited. But, I also don't want to leave here. It's hard to explain because I'm not sure if any of you have ever spent longer than 2 weeks in a different country, (if you have then you know how this feels), but it kind of has become home to me. I'm used to the life here. I'm used to the meal times and bed times and smells and sights and people and Spanish language and foods. I'm used to contacting people through facebook and email only, I'm used to not having a phone or a car, I'm used to having to figure out what time it is in the US to talk to my parents on Skype... I'm used to my little church here, and the fact that Deborah leans over to whisper in my ear what they are saying so I can actually understand. I'm used to having to speak "spanglish" with my church friends, and just in general being with my church friends. I'm used to the soccer players across the street and their yelling and chanting at 9 am on Saturdays and midnight every night. I'm used to my soy milk tasting like asparagus (however gross that may be), and the orange juice having a soda-y taste to it. Man, there are so many things that I am used to, which also means I don't want to leave them. I don't want to leave. Why is it so hard for me to accept the fact that I'm leaving in 6 days? When I still had ten days to go, it didn't seem that close, but now, with only 6 days left? I feel like I should just leave tomorrow. I can't handle that.

My friend Deborah originally came here for 6 months to work, and when her contract was up, the people at the church said "Maybe you'll come back soon." And she was back before two months had gone by. I definitely plan on coming back. How could I not? I have a family here. My little church family. I love them, and from what they've all been saying, they love me too. "Someday" has been the word of the week. "When will you come back?" "Someday." "When will I see you again?" "Someday." ... In one way, that word is good, but in another way it's not. It could mean that I will come back, but it could also just be a false promise. I don't like that. I was thinking, and the earliest I could come back would be when I'm 22... after I graduate college (assuming I graduate college). I'd come back for a few weeks at the least, maybe spend my whole summer after college here. And that's just my plan. What about God's? This trip has totally and completely messed with my future plans. I had every intention on moving to NYC/the Bronx when I graduate and doing missions/design stuff. I've told you guys that before. But this trip? Totally made me rethink everything. I could live here, you know. I really could. There's just something about living in a foreign country that is so appealing to me. Did you know, that most every one of my friends from church here originally came from somewhere else. Deborah is from Germany, Anna from Virginia, Oscar from Colombia, Marccella from Brazil, Mario from El Salvador, Scott from Missouri... So why can't Stephanie from New Hampshire be added into the mix? The moral of the story is: I'm confused. And I don't want to leave. Let's just keep it at that.