Craig, you made my day. Actually Craig, scrap that. You made my week. You reminded me that regardless of the dire political and economic states of my two residences (London and North Carolina), there are still some incredible people out there. You may not have written an acclaimed novel on the collapse of the Soviet Union or performed Chopin blindfolded but you made me and my mum smile a lot.
I never entertained the thought of a gap year. I thought such a year was meant for traveling and I've never been enamored by the idea. Schools don't really talk to you seriously about taking a year out; it's sort of a "you're on your own" policy, which is a scary concept even when your gap year is premeditated.
One of my favourite places to go and visit is the local graveyard. We live on a square block, the streets conveniently named North, East, South and West, and the cemetery is on the North side of the square. I have no relatives or friends buried there, in fact, I have no connection to anyone there. But there's something about the ambience, the peace and the love that has gone into that patch of land that permeates the air and is hard to find anywhere else.
My therapy sessions helped me deal with my addictive personality and my ridiculous relationships with shopping, sex, drugs and food. I'd tried, tasted, sniffed and snorted, filled my flat with clothes and possessions I never needed nor wanted and ate and drank my way around the world - but nothing made me happy.