So.

Last week, I asked Peter to come and visit me in Africa before we head off to Europe together. He could get a charter flight from London for £80.

After a week of thinking and a bit of talking about it, he's decided not to come.

PissShitFuckDamn.

It would have given me so much hope for the remainder of my time here. Would have given me more hope for us. It would have been a great experience for us both. But now, I still have another five months alone here.

Fuck.

I mean, I can do this. I know I can last the remaining five months. It would have been wonderful to share this country with someone else. But no. I get to do it all alone.

I'm fucking sad.

Today's not a good day. All of my other volunteer friends are leaving my area of The Gambia today (besides a few, and most of them I don't really get along with or like), and are heading off to start their jobs. I made a really good friend named Angela, and she's going the furthest away. When she tells the locals where she's going, they all laugh in her face. She's living in huts, she's got a pit latrine, no electricity... she's got it rough.

Much more rough than I have here.

And so, they're all going. My support system, their support system... it's all going downhill. Today is one of the lowest days I've had since arriving.