home

I'm home.

Jet lagged quite badly - slept for a few hours in the afternoon, which is early morning London time. I didn't catch any sleep on the plane, as there was this young toddler who kept crying on board. The elderly couple next to me didn't know how to work the video controls and the lighting; I felt compelled to show them how, even looked for the old man's spectacles which accidentally fell to the floor. When my eyes did close for a moment, strange images would flash through my mind, totally unrelated to current events or anything that I've been reading or watching on the flight. Disturbing, uncharacteristic, peculiar.

It's evening now - I can't shake the grogginess from my heavy head. I know I have to be awake - it's already 10AM in London, which meant I would've been out and about anyway. The coffee isn't helping like it used to.

Maybe it's the drawn curtains in my room that's keeping the lighting low enough for another nap.

Maybe it's the notion that there's nothing to look forward to anymore.

Maybe it's the depression that's setting in once again after the bout of excitement.

Maybe...

Maybe it's because I still can't let go.