So here's the thing.

I've been typing and deleting and typing and editing then deleting this post for an eternity now. I hate not being able to adequately put my thoughts down into words in a way that doesn't make me sound like a prepubescent hick experimenting with blogging (typically on LiveJournal) and providing pictures of herself and her friends with dorky smiles and head-to-toe Forever21 outfits taken by a shitass camera with a long post about every single event that happened that day written in chronological order....... .. . .. ... .

Basically what I've been working on communicating here is that I've been really consumed with the idea of living somewhere else. And by somewhere else, I mean London. But I've also been plagued by the horrific thought of leaving my beloved friends and family behind and yet the thought of not going makes me want to wallow in depression for the next few years. (This is the result of Asian upbringing. Mine at least.) Oh and there's the idea that I wouldn't be able to do anything productive in my time overseas so I would be essentially wasting my parents' money. Hm it seems like everything I want to say is said and yet, I feel like it is so much more complex. I think I overestimate how **deep&troubled** I am and yet I don't find myself deep or troubled at all...

...which is mental...??