It was shocking how much one’s desires and ideals could change to the exact opposite of what they once were. I thought of how I felt upon finding out that I would reside at the Chrysanthemum residence—as well as when I arrived there. I had felt fierce, burning, uncontrollable butterflies inside of me. I had resisted the thought and reality of the matter so much, that I could scarcely imagine what London would be like. I merely thought of home, and what I would be leaving behind. I didn’t dare to happily and excitedly dream of the possibilities which would unfold. Instead, I crawled further and further into my hole; hiding behind a sheild of petrified angst, uncertainty, and fear. Now, my ivory tower was becoming more and more invisible to me and the world; its walls becoming thinner and thinner. Despite the fact that my experiences in this new land had been unique, to say the least (and perhaps uneventful from others’ standpoints) I now wanted to stay forever.