So it’s properly hit me. I knew I was missing home but I didn’t realise how bad my homesickness had got until I was sending screenshots of flight details and ticket costs to my mum, ie. I was considering flying home.

My depression has fuelled my homesickness. But at the same time my homesickness has fuelled my depression.

People keep telling me that I won’t feel better if I just continue to mope around. I should go out and make more friends. Do more. Spend more time outside of my room. Just do something other than watching 4 series of Call the Midwife on Netflix in a week (personally, I see this as a bit of an accomplishment).

Homesickness is hell.

And if I don’t want to move from my bed all day, that’s what I’ll do, even though I know in the end this won’t make me any happier. Because homesickness and depression don’t allow you to be logical. I’m depressed because I don’t have many friends and miss home. But the thought of having to go out and meet people and do things also makes me depressed.

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