Italia, ce l'hai il mio cuore?

This blog post is not going to particularly pretty, because honestly, I could probably express myself better right now if I were a jellyfish. That’s sort of what my brain feels like to tell the truth, a blank, floating, jelly-ish mix of gunk. Trying to analyze my feelings and my experiences is not even possible right now, so I’ll just write what I’m feeling at this moment, 40 hours from my departure.

I am a bag of tears, and that’s about it. I’m a jellyfish sack of salty tears made more salty from all the seawater I’ve swallowed in the past months of glorious sun and sea. It’s like all the joy and beauty that I’ve collected throughout the past year has finally reached the rim of the cup and now it’s all spilling over in my tears. As of two days ago, I now cry on the bus, I cry when I hear a song about goodbyes (and they’re all about goodbyes), I cried when I went to buy souvenirs and the owner asked me if I was from America.

I don’t know if I can really make it clear how hard this is for me and (I think) for all the other exchange students. I mean, I knew this year would be hard, and that’s precisely why I wanted to do it. I remember thinking about all the challenges I would face during this year: trying to make new friends, participate in new activities, and understand a new culture, all while attempting to learn a foreign language, and without the comfort of family and friends or anything familiar. I was so excited to take on these challenges, and I remember thinking that even though times may come during the year when I would lament my decision because it was just too hard, those moments would prove to be the ones in which I grew the most. I craved those challenges because I knew that they would help me become a better person. And so I smugly set myself up for this year, readying myself for the personal and cultural difficulties. Now I’m looking back and thinking, “How stupid was I that I thought that I could do this! I can’t do this. I can’t.” Somehow I underestimated just how much I would love Italy by the end of the year, because here I am with the hardest challenge still before me, and it’s the one that I didn’t even think about. This goodbye is heartbreaking.

I don’t want it to seem like I can’t bear to return home, because that’s not the case at all. It’s just that I’m really not very good at thinking into the future. Right now I’m not thinking about how great it will be to see my friends and family again, to sleep in my own bed, to eat tacos, go biking, drive, listen to my favorite classic rock radio station, hang out at Blue Monday, just relax in Northfield. I’m not even thinking about how excited I am for college. These emotions will all come soon, I know, and then I’ll be just as melodramatic as I am now. But the only true awareness I have right now is that I’m leaving home. Again. And this time, I don’t have a return date set ten months from now.

Seeing as I’m near the end of my journey, I suppose I should say goodbye, but I’m not sure I can handle another goodbye right now ;) I’ll probably write one last blog post once I get home and I’m in a less melancholy mood, hopefully with pictures and lots of happy stories. Until then thanks to everyone for reading and following along with my year. This experience has been more than wonderful and I can’t wait to hear about the next batch of adventurers so that I can live vicariously through all of their blogs!

A presto! Ciao