I have seven weeks left in Paris, well, until September anyway, I think... I had a 'trial' yesterday with the Potential Family for next year, they are going to let me know if I have the job or not on Tuesday. Everyone has been pestering me to send them a follow-up text saying 'Great to meet you again, looking forward hearing from you' etc, but I don't want to. I don't want to give them the impression that I am Confident and Dynamic and Pro-active because this is not me at all. I don't want to try at life, I belong in bed, on benefits, depressed and everyone needs to accept that.
Me, Amy and Kayt just waved Clare goodbye at Gare du Nord. There were more than a few tears. It is so sad, I didn't actually believe Clare was going until she walked through the doors away from us, struggling with her four suitcases. Now Clare has gone everyone else is going to drop off, one by one, until there will just be me, struggling through Gare du Nord on my own, with nobody to see me off and nobody to meet me on the other side.
I think a part of me doesn't want to get this job next year, a little part of me wants to go back home and stay there. I've been waiting for somebody to make the decision for me, for somebody to say 'It's ok, you've done the year in Paris like you said you would, you can come back home now.' But nobody has said this, everyone seems to want me to stay in Paris.
Seven weeks... you know how I feel about the number seven.
I've just read the little postcard that Clare wrote for me and cried a bit. The worst thing is from now on there is only going to be a lot more crying and a lot more goodbyes. If I do come back to Paris next year it won't be the same city without all the friends I have made here. The sad thing is that I feel as if I'm either just getting to know people, or else I made friends with them in the beginning months and haven't seen much of them lately. I wonder who I'll meet again, and where, and when?
I felt like singing We'll Meet Again at the Eurostar terminal this morning, but thought it might be a bit too much. Instead, me and Kayt started singing Goodbye by the Spice Girls once we'd seen Clare off and were waiting for the bus home. We managed to sing:
Goodbye my friend (I know you're gone, you said you're gone, but I can still feel you here)
It's not the end (You gotta keep it strong before the pain turns into fear)
So glad we made it...
But then we couldn't go on anymore, we got all choked up.
Oh god, why do we do this to ourselves? Listen to sad songs and cry and enjoy it? I'm going to listen to it now and read my postcard again, I might even look at photos of abused puppies on the internet and read a text message from my mum...