Once you decided to move and you make it public, it is inevitable that the people that care about you will ask you questions. A lot of questions. I am usually happy to leave the talking to Joey (my husband-to-be), as he loves it. As for me, it depends entirely on my mood and who is doing the asking. If you are lucky, you will get a yes/no answer and a smile, but if you are not, be prepared to lose half hour listening to incoherent rants about life, death and the importance of futility. Especially if drinks are around. At the end of that forever lost half hour, you still won't have a clue, and neither will I.
The most common questions I've been asked are: are you excited? followed by: are you scared?
Yes, I am excited. I know I am scowling while I say it but I truly am. Thing is, London has been really good to me and I don't feel like blowing fireworks just yet. This city welcomed me when I was a dorky young girl until I finally grew and became a dorkier young woman (I use the term young loosely). I made very happy memories here and I met some wonderful people I hate to leave behind.
Yes, I am scared. Of course I'm scared, I am not insane. I am moving to a country that is smaller than the city I am currently living in. To give you an idea, crossing Malta will take the same time as visiting my friend in North London would, without traffic. I have to start (again) everything from scratch, including finding a job. Who wouldn't be scared? But I tell you what scares me the most: that in 5, 10 years time I'll be exactly where I am today.
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