Come back.

I'm back and sad. Last night, I cried because I'm gonna miss you so fucking much, really. Now, I don't have a shared room, nor a shared bathroom. I won't dinner at 6 o'clock, and I won't hear the fire alarm at 6:45 in the morning anymore. My soundtrack won't be "Sotto casa di..." and I'm not gonna see the Russian Tree again. No more potatoes, apples or butter; no more racing to McDonalds because we are too hungry; no more house register and no more lessons on Saturday. I won't be scared about DETENTION, and I won't need my green bag nor my ID card anymore (in fact, I already threw my green bag away).

This morning, when I arrived to Madrid, I cried again, a lot. I realized these two weeks were awesome and I feel that I have not enjoyed them enough. I just want to go back, and re-start again. But this time, I want to do it otherwise.

You were in my dreams...