London, I love you.

It has been around two months since I left London. I know I haven't said much about it since I have been back, but I've realized that it's because it is just too hard to think about it (let alone write about it). As a result, I thought it would be easier for me to just ignore it.

But obviously...that didn't really work. It is everywhere. Every time I go to pick out my outfit, every time I talk to my friends who I studied there with, as I scroll through my Instagram feed, it is unavoidable.

I miss it more than I could have imagined, more than I could have ever prepared myself for. I don't need to relive any specific moment. I don't need to be with anyone in particular. I just want to be a part of the city. Just me and London...that's it. It doesn't matter where or when or what I am doing there.

I find myself day dreaming about walking past St. Paul's Cathedral, across the Millennium Bridge, past the Tate Modern, ending (of course) at Nandos. Or out my front gate, past the Betsey Trottwood Pub, under the construction, popping into my local full-English breakfast place, and then back out and down to the Farringdon tube station.

I can feel it. Like something I can't explain...something I have never felt before. It is just the way I feel when I am in London. Knowing there will be a Pret-a-Manger, a pub, and Wasabi on every street. Knowing that if I just follow the crowd, they will usually take me to the closest tube station. Those little things that make London unique and special. Those little things that make London seem like it was made just for you and that everyone else is just a visitor in "your London".