isn't it ironic?

I'm almost laughing. I've spent the last few months moping around inside my head at the fact that I am leaving Italy. Outside I'm bursting really, and loving loving everyone around me. Here I write it out and so perhaps you've missed that part.

A year ago I wasn't happy with how things were going in Italy. I loved my family life, I loved the culture and our city, but I needed more. I hadn't bonded with anyone after two years and that frustrated me. I realized that if I were to leave then, no one would miss me and I'd hardly miss them. And I set out to change that.

I quit my job and dove back into Italian classes. I spent my free time working the beginning of friendships I had and left behind the ones that sapped my life. I reached out more and pushed myself harder. And it worked.

I got that heartache I was looking for. Am I sick somehow to want this? I feel torn apart at having to move away from my friends in Italy. I want to cling to them and see them everyday, share their joys and sorrow. Sometimes I feel I can't possibly move away.

But I also feel lucky and joyful. I love these people and I'm looking forward to that feeling of welcome and warmth when I return to this northern most town in northern Italy. I'm tearing myself out of that cocoon of sorrow that keeps wrapping up around me. Part of me wants to hide away and disappear... and I won't let myself do that anymore. I suppose that was something I did in high school. Friends carry too much value for me now, and not that I can't live without them, but I don't want to.