16th January: watching London's skyline disappear into the distance. And I can feel my heart ache. Partly I'm sure because I am listening to the most beautiful symphony I have ever hear on the in-flight stereo. Beethoven? Strauss? Can't quite place the composer. I was broken and now I am mended. I was adrift but now I found an anchor. But at what cost? The truth is I've realised that I feel nothing. Neither for the one I always feel I'm leaving behind nor for the one I'm returning to. Is it that I have trained myself not to feel and have finally become the person I was pretending to be for so long? Again, at what cost? 26th January: ok let me rephrase. I feel. But I have learnt to isolate those feelings. Like someone hiding from something happening right in front of them. Last night I realised that I have become selfish with my happiness. Very protective of my sanity. In ways I never was. I have learnt to replace people as soon as they leave. Or as soon as I lea