I have recently come to the conclusion that I am desperately unhappy. Sitting at my desk surrounded by damp tissues and mug after mug of tea I have come to the conclusion that I am not where I want to be in life at all.
Where I would like to be in life is working in a bakery back in England, working towards one day having my own cupcake shop. Where I actually am is a soulless city in China struggling for a degree I don't want with my entire family's expectations weighing me down.
It's got to the point where the only thing keeping me out here is the fact that if I move back home, drop out and so forth, is that it will screw up my parents holiday plans for next year... and I get the feeling that that should not be the only thing keeping me going. I shouldn't be sitting here in what the years above us have called the best year of uni with a page constantly open on my computer telling me when the next flight out of Shanghai to Heathrow is.
This isn't me being home sick, I don't get home sick apart from when I get sick of being at home, this is me realising my life is going in a direction I really don't want it to go in.
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