Fifty, fifty

  Know what it feels like to be split in two? To have a fine dotted line spliced right down your center and having both halves trade punches. Both sides bitchin' it out to come out on top, to give you a right and ready ultimatum. Problem is, they're so equally matched, like Son Goku and Superman. Attacks and counterattacks fire between them in rapid fire succession, leaving your battlefield of your body ravaged and tired, exhausted from all that turmoil. With less than a month away from my big departure, and nothing describes it better for me.

  Everything feels like it's on a clock now. My heads on a permenant stopwatch. A big countdown till it's all over. ' One month left.... One month left... One month left...' it's all I can hear, it's all I can think about! One month left to play with my siblings. One month left to swear and joke around in my Saxish accent. Hell, I can't even have a Döner in peace without smacking it with a one month left label. From the moment I stumble out of bed till the second I lay my head down at night, this maniacal mantra of panic is endlessly looping round my head.

  A side of me wants to stay so desperately. It wants to anchor itself down and reap all the fruits of its' hard, bloody labour. Learning German. Making new friends. Understanding a foreign family. Dealing with withering looks from strangers. To not let all that blood, tears, and effort be in vain. It wants to carry on the way things are. To enjoy the four seasons. To speak this peculiar German dialect. To be finally fit itself in the big Jigsaw puzzle after having to adapt itself for what seems like forever.

  Meanwhile, the others side of me is having this massive erection at the prospect of homecoming. To finally be able to see friends and family again. To walk my dog again. To come home retuned and renewed, ready to take on the big bad world and start anew. A fresh start. To, after all this time being a fish out of water, finally be able to dive right back into familiar waters. Finally be able to get on with a life that I've been having on hold for 10 whole months.

  And so thy bicker. A regret here, a sweet memory there. All the up's and down's resurface from my memory bank and go all out on each other. A racist remark versus the Alps. A scolding from my guest mother versus my first kiss. Being alienated from my classmates versus playing with my siblings in the backyard. Finally when the dust settles and I take a good look around, it always comes out even. Like two huge battalions blowing each other to smithereens leaving nothing but empty land. Neutral. Blank.

  I hate this feeling. I hate coming out even. I mean, I should be feeling awesome right? I should be doing cartwheels and backflips whilst yelling about how epic this year was. I should be. Strangely enough, no. Instead, I'm lying down on my bed, staring blankly into the ceiling. Trying to soak it all up. Trying to wrap my head around the idea of leaving it all behind. Family. Friends. Food. Memories. Let me savour these last moments. Let me breathe before I take the plunge.