By Lucia Guijarro Hernando

Dear diary

It is Christmas, and everybody seems to be so happy. There are Christmas lights in every single tree, laughter mixes with the modest and short live concerts that some unluckily talented musicians play for a little amount of money. Although it is cold, there are plenty of smiling faces passing by.

The lightful and shiny shops attract consumers with their colorful posters that pray ‘sale’ each 20 cm of the shop window. Costumers are only searching for the perfect gift, and in most cases that will be impossible.

This is, though, such a beautiful city, But that isn’t enough when you miss something. Christmas doesn’t transmit me any happiness or even hope. I have been living here since October, and I wish I could be home right now.
It is hard to start a new life living abroad, although I thought in the beginning that it wouldn’t. I feel lonely, unprotected and a little bit scared. This is probably the most difficult decision that I have ever taken.

Anyway, it is true that there are a lot of colleagues that are helping me, but I don’t feel comfortable yet.

All I want for Christmas is a plane ticket that could take me back to London.

People are always asking me why I have moved abroad being so young; I know I’m a liar, because my answer may be: ‘adventure’. The truth is that I don’t want to be the broke girl that I was called in high school. Actually, I am helping my family a lot by sending them my money.

Well, it over for today, it’s my cleaning turn time, and if I’m late they will discount it from my salary.

Till tomorrow,



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