When Tomorrow Comes

14 more hours left in Germany. I'm starting to get sentimental, thoughtful and my head is full of doubts. After calling Theresa, my landlady, earlier this afternoon I was filled with joy (and joyness), but now that I finally finished packing, I'm surrounded by a cleaned up room that doesn't look like mine any more.
The last week was amazing, it really couldn't have been any better. I cannot remember the chronological order, but I spend so much time with friends, maybe more than I have in a long time. I learned to appreciate the people here. of course, these things always happen when someone has to leave.
I'm scared of tomorrow. Everything is set, but there is so much that can go wrong. I don't even want to think about it, but I guess it won't leave my head until I really say it out loud. But maybe then it also will really happen. I could miss my flight. My bag might be too heavy. My carry-on luggage might be to big/too much. I could hate my room. That's actually what I am really afraid of. I've seen the room before. It's dark. But it seemed nice in it's own way. I think the wallcolour was some kind of purple, I hope they changed it over the summer. The bed seemed quite big, that's what I'm really looking forward to. But I'm super scared that I might not like my new home. When I had lunch at my grandma's today and we were waiting for my mom she said that if I don't like it in England, I should just come back. This made me think. What is going to happen if I don't like it there? I will just stand this one year, that's for sure. Because I have this feeling that art is the right thing for me. Maybe nothing related to drawing/painting/anything fine art related, but design. photography. fashion. that's what I want to do. So that one year in Bournemouth, in a maybe not so nice room, shouldn't be too bad. especially if I find some nice people up there and if I get a lot of visitors. Then I'll be fine. I just have to be.