Gone.

And now they're gone.

And now I'm alone.

I can't determine if having visitors makes this easier or harder. Don't get me wrong, I've loved the time I've spent here with Steve and my parents. While they were here, I was really happy and got to spend time with them and I know they all had a good time. I got to see a lot of really cool things with my parents; some were things I have seen before, but some were new for me, like Hampton Court Palace, Westminster Abbey, the Louvre in Paris, the top of the Eiffel Tower (FINALLY), and Windsor Castle. We had a lovely trip to Paris, a lot of time together, and everybody successfully resisted the urge to murder each other. I missed my parents so much, and it was nice to have a break from missing them for a short time. But now, as Ben Folds would say, "I'm feeling more alone than I ever have before."

I hate goodbyes. They're really difficult for anyone, so I'm not going to pretend I'm unique and special by saying how they're really hard for me. It was bad enough to say goodbye the first time on January 7th, when I knew that they would be visiting me in a short while. I knew I would be seeing them during my time here, which made it feel like it wasn't so bad because I didn't have to go the whole stay without seeing them. But then they come and visit, become a physical part of my life again for a really short time, and then leave. Just leave.

And now they're gone.

And now I'm alone.

Now, don't tell me some reassuring pick-me-up like how lucky I am to have people like that at all, to have people visit me, or that I'm never really alone. I am lucky, and I know I'm not really alone as long as I have people in my life, yadda yadda. Somehow that's not too reassuring when none of those people are actually here. I can't curl up with my mom and watch television all day every time I'm sad and don't feel like doing anything else. I can't play lazyball with my dad and Zoe and wake up to him putting dog treats under my pillow every Saturday morning for her. I can't make "your mom" jokes and high-five my brother, and I can't cuddle up next to Steve. They may be there for me, but they aren't here for me. And so, I feel alone.

I really loved the time I spent with my parents and Steve here, I want to make that clear. I don't regret them coming out here, because we really did have a good time. This feeling I have now though is far worse than any feelings I had when I was just alone here before they came. We have a great time, they go to the airport, I go back to my flat, and all I can think is, "...and now they're gone. And now I'm alone."

They just came here halfway through my time, and I've been here since January. They stayed a week, had a grand vacation, and I've been living here. And at the end of it all, I see them off to the airport, they get to hop on another plane back home, and I get to hop back on the tube back to Old Street. I have to walk back into my flat, the very one that they had just been living in, and see the clutter in my room of where they just were.

And now they're gone.

And now I'm alone.

They get to leave. They get to come here, stay their short time, and go. I can't leave. I can't go back with them. They can't stay here, and I can't go home. All I have is the terrible quality of Skype calls and the knowledge that they'll be there when I come home. I know they aren't going anywhere... I just wish I could.

And now they're gone.

And now I'm alone.