Today, one of my best friends left for Zambia–well, Egypt, then Dubai, then Zambia–and she started a blog for her to record and share her amazing journey. And while I am beyond nervous and excited for her, I am jealous of her in a way I have never been jealous of a person. I don’t want that ticket to Zambia, I don’t want all the love and support of friends, I want the inspiration and experiences she is about to be given.

I miss that. I want that.

Lately I’ve felt bland. All summer really. Maybe it’s that I am back home. Maybe it’s because my parents are far too conservative. Maybe it’s because I can’t be myself around the majority of my friends here. But whatever it is, it’s killing me. Literally.

I feel dead and desperate. I need a shock of inspiration.

At school, I had so much to write about because I made so many moments happen. Here, at home, I feel like those moments happen every few weeks.

At school, I met so many different people, and I learned so much from our differences. Here, at home, everyone is the same.

At school, I was surrounded by moments and people that sparked my intellect–that made me question things and re-evaluate many of my previous findings. Here, at home, I run to people for that spark, and people look at me like I’m speaking another language.

I am sick of empty conversation and small talk.

I crave intellectual stimulation and exercise. I crave analysis. I crave inspiration.


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