Then the past two weeks have been so busy that there has been no time for crying, no time to think about missing home. Then I went to Flensburg for two days to find a commune, extremely hopeful and optimistic and going into charm-everyone mode. How hard could it be, right?
Hah. I'm crying right now. Maybe it's being overwhelmed, just for a moment, by everything. Maybe it's not really sleeping for two days because a very cute kitten kept bouncing around on me at night. Maybe it's discovering that the university consists of two buildings. Small buildings. I think I handled everything pretty well, until I got back to Berlin with two rejections.
The rejections were still ok, as well. But then not getting any support from my father, having to live out of my suitcase, not having a moment to myself, not having any space to call mine, well, that made the flippen tear ducts start up again. Fuck.
I know all of this is not as hard as I make it out to be, I know somehow it'll work out, I know I still have time to find a room, somehow, somewhere. Just in this very moment it would be nice not to feel so very much alone.