I'm sat in Heathrow Terminal 3, waiting for my departure gate to be announced. I've taken so many flights in my life, and nearly every single time I feel like I've left something behind. I check, and triple check my list, but it makes little difference as a few days later I always find myself looking for that *one* thing. This time though, something really felt off. The list I made was a half-hearted one - normally I'd meticulously account for every item, along with their respective quantities (e.g. 3x socks). But this time I just chucked into my suitcase what vaguely seemed like things I'd need. It's like I'm purposely letting myself leave something behind, to free myself from the irrationality of that fear.

Yet as I went to press the button for the conveyor belt to whisk my suitcase away to sights unseen, I hesitated. Despite my haphazard packing, I still felt insecure, like I couldn't let go of something, but I wasn't sure what. Pressing that button sealed my fate, whatever that fate may be, and if I was missing something crucial I'd just have to live without it. I lazily rummaged through my backpack, despite knowing that the contents were exactly the same as the last time I'd checked it 15 minutes ago. As I resigned and pressed the button, I turned to leave and didn't watch the conveyor steal my bag away like I normally did.

I honestly still don't know what this feeling is. It's like a fear, an insecurity and a loss rolled into one. I feel like I could make myself cry at any moment if I put on my headphones and chose the right song. Maybe I'm just scared to go back, to confront what it is that I'd left behind, but I don't even know what that is. It's one thing to feel something and know why you're feeling it, but to feel something so strongly and have no idea why feels incredibly disarming. No amount of retreat into my music or mindless scrolling can make it go away, and so I'm just forced to sit here and feel it. So I guess I'll do that.

Recently I've felt a million miles away from everyone. I don't know if I feel lonely, but I just feel distant from the people that I'm supposed to know. And I guess that's through some fault of my own. I was in Warwick for a few days, and I met a friend of a friend. She stood out to me because she seemed quite kind, and smiled a lot, and asked me questions. I sometimes find myself wishing that someone would ask me questions, but I feel like when I finally met someone who did, I gently shut them down. Or did I? I don't even remember, I just get the feeling that I did. My friend in Warwick who I was visiting, she used to ask me a lot of questions. She doesn't anymore, but probably because I stopped answering them. I wonder what it is that's making me the way I am. If only I could figure that out, then maybe my problems would all go away. I guess the only thing worse than experiencing a feeling and not knowing why is inflicting that very same feeling upon yourself, and still not knowing why you're doing it.

I wonder how that tetraplegic KCL professor is doing (I can never remember his name). I hope he's okay, or at least as okay as he can be. I feel bad that the first thing I think of him is a tetraplegic, as if that's all I've reduced him to in my mind. I know he'd hate it.

I bought this book in the airport WHSmith, 'How they broke Britain' by James O'Brien, a name I vaguely remember from that one radio show where they're always arguing about British politics. It's something I'm vaguely interested in, as I've recently been consuming things that (claim to) explain Britain's economic decline, probably as a way for me to reconcile the fact that I live in a country that I generally find disappointing. I feel like the book might be sort of sweary and finger-pointy due to the cover containing a review saying “Made me so angry. Superb” and the author looking sternly back at me, brow furrowed, as if the photographer had just told him the camera was banging his wife. Nevertheless, I hope I learn something from it, and if not, at least I'll probably feel something. 🀩