Somethings are better unsaid. Yet we say it anyway

Oh, how I will definitely miss Elda--the peace and quietness of it, while still having the soft bustle of people down by the Parque Castellar. (I never did quite master how to proper pronounce the name.) There was something about this little town that I cannot turn away from. I think it was here that I most accepted how to be alone without being lonely. How much did I really change? I went back into myself, a little bit into my shell, trying slowly to rediscover the quiet person within. Here, I was most attuned to what I wanted and without needing to show it to others... My heart grieves for a loss of this quiet town. I will miss the brightly lit nights under the moon and the starlight. I will miss the vast darkness that I stare upon, hoping for a glimpse of any glittery stars. I will miss the moon when it’s so large outside my terrace window and illuminating my humble studio. It’s only been five months. Only five. I dread having to return home without fully exploring this country. Then again, I hope that this may not be my last trip here. Spain in gorgeous, for not so much the nature of my city by the people whom reside in it. 

Of all the seemingly synonyms English word-pairs, I would much rather be called courageous rather than brave. These two words, though philosophically alike, are different. Note that bravery will denote the lack of feeling or fear for the thing which threatens; on the other hand, courage accepts all its fears and yet still pushes on. I would like to acknowledge the choice made despite of the darkness that one may feel. 

Too fucking good. I just cannot. 

Trust me. They have. It’s always the bad cooks.