Sing to yourself and hold on.

Her yellow dress was dancing in the wind, as she was carelessly walking down the street.

To her left, luxurious displays were unfolding. To her right, a steady stream of cars were making their way through the crowded streets. Neither of them cought her eye.

She knew where she was going. And she knew what she wanted. She longed for this. Ever since things got bad, she longed for a time when she would have a purpose again. She knew what she wanted to do all along. It was all in the back of her mind, just waiting for that perfect moment that would let all those feelings and hopes and dreams flow.

She left the turmoil of the city behind, as the beach was revealing itself in a caleidoscope of colors and scents. On the horizon, the firey sky was mingling with the dark blue water in a concert of contrasting tones.

There was wind.

She carelessly ran her fingers through her copper-colored hair, which in the light of the sunset looked as if it was bruning in a subtle flame. As she stepped on the sand, she left all of her doubts and fears on the pavement. That beach was now her home. It was her safe place. She sat down in front of the water. People were roaming around. Couples were intertwined. The laughing of the children merged into a soft hum.

And she just stood there. On that beach. In the big city. In THAT big city. Where he was.

At first, she went there for him. But in the process of finding him, she found herself. She freed herself.

With the memory of him in her mind and soul, she let go.

She finally let go.

 

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It’s been a long time since you came around.

I was walking aimlessly through the streets of the small, french town.

I was mesmerised by everything that was happening around me. My senses were overwhelmed. I was flirting with the scent of mulled whine, while the cold was busy painting my cheeks red. There was wonder everywhere. Just like the carousel that welcomed me every time I left the hostel to explore the town, I was waltzing ’round and ’round, looking at wonderful places and smiling to all those beautiful people. And then it started snowing and I felt as if the heavens themselves were waltzing with me. A familiar feeling started taking over me. It became my companion. I didn’t realize, at first, what it was and why did I feel like we were old pals. But then one night, while the sweetness of that caramel cover apple was filling every bone in my body with joy, that very moment when my senses were drunk, tangled in that tiny piece of heaven; it hit me. My companion, that feeling that allowed me to feel like home in that foreign land… that was magic. The same magic that surrounded me as a child waiting for Santa… magic; the one that gave me a thrill every time I would listen to gradma’s stories; the magic that filld my heart with countless moments of joy as a child but that slowly crawled its way out of my heart and into a small place I forgot was there, it was all back.

“You haven’t changed much.” I thought to myself. But I have. In so many ways, I am miles away from the person I used to be. And now you’re back, and I feel as if I am back too. It’s like my past and my present merged into this moment, this perfect moment where it seems like everything that is good about the world, about me, came together here, in this exact spot, at this exact time. It may have been the music, I might have been drunk with the cinnamon and the apple and the aroma of caramelised sugar, but right there and then, I was at peace.

Image

(picture taken by me)

Right in the streets of that small, french town.

Updates

So, since my wordpress is acting up lately and I haven’t been able to acces my account in about two weeks, I’m gonna take this opportunity to write some thoughts and exciting things that happened to me lately.

First of all, I’m in cloud nine right now, because two weeks from now I’m gonna be in FRANCE ! It’s been my life-long dream to go to France and I am so thankful that I’m gonna be able to do that. I’ve got a whole week of visiting and falling in love with the coffee and the cakes and the frenchmen, the class, the architecture and see the birthplace of my lovers, the macarons. And I couldn’t be more excited. I’m also going with my dearest and best friend, which is gonna be amazing! We’re staying at this youth hostel in Strasbourg, which is situated at the top floor of an actual castle! It’s also gonna be around the holidays and I am PRAYING for snow. On our way back we’ll also visit Vienna and Prague, so I’ll make sure to be back with tons of photos (taken with my brand new camera, which is another amazing thing my parents were kind enough to offer me) from all the Christmas Makets.

In other news, I am going to be back with an article soon enough, provided that my wordpress decides to get back to its old self and actually function for more than 10 minutes.

If anyone reading this has some tips and useful info about what I should visit while on my trip, please, do share.

Thanks to all!

Everybody’s on the run.

All day. Every day.

Some run towards something. Some run away from something.

And her?

Well, her story is a little complicated.

She didn’t know when it started. Didn’t know how, or where, but she found herself right in the middle of it. No tuning back. No do-overs. Just as they say, it’s do or die. But who are they? What qualifies them to be give such radical ultimatums? Maybe you can stall it. Maybe you can avoid it just for a little while. Maybe, just maybe, if you don’t talk about it or acknowledge its presence, it’ll go away. But it didn’t. It just got heavier. It was eating away at her as it got more and more heavy for her to carry.

All alone. As I’m walking these streets. I’m not even sure where I am anymore. The streets are intertwined. I’d like to ask for help, but I don’t know how. The people around me… they speak this language that I don’t understand. I’m trying to reach out, but they can’t hear me. And so I walk. Sometimes faster, sometimes I just drag my legs, hoping I’ll make it past the corner.

At times, it looks like some of the people I meet along the way see me, it seems like they’re looking at me, but they never do so long enough so they can see my cry for help. Or maybe it’s just my imagination. At first, I was scared. I was upset and angry and I kept on waving and screaming my lungs out. But after a while, I stopped being upset or angry. Now, the fear… that was deeply instilled into my being. But soon enough, the fear became my friend. The fear was familiar, it belonged and it gave me a sense of belonging. It was the only constant in my life. And I was  ok with it.

Until I wasn’t. It may have been the warmth of this late autumn, it may have been the memory of that november day when I found love which got me thinking…  I’ve seen beautiful things during my journey. I’ve walked past happy, courageous, fulfilled people. I’ve walked past love, and smiles, hugs and handholdings, past carpe diems, past sadness and anger and joy and despair.  And then it hit me. Like the soft thunders in those warm, rainy summer nights, it creeped into my soul.

The people, they can see me. They can hear me too. I just have to want it. I have been holding onto the wrong feeling all along. I should have been angry. And upset. I should have kept on waving and I should have kept on screaming louder and louder.

Her story? It doesn’t end here. It doesn’t begin here either. It just goes on. Towards something. Away from something. She is sometimes seen here… and there. At times bursting with joy and other times crippled with pain.

Seen… She is seen.

You’re gonna make me lonesome when you go.

I chose this title partly beacause this is the song that I’m listening to right now, and partly because this is the feeling I’ve got. I have been wrestling with a question for quite some time now. What will I do when I grow old? I remember how it used to be when I was little, how in my old neighbourhood, where we lived with my grandmother, the elders would gather some place in the afternoon, talking, reminiscing or watching their grandsons and granddaughters play. I used to love the sense of security and of belonging that scene always gave me. Like I was exactly where I was supposed to be, protected, safe, happy and at peace. It was like I had my own personal world, that no one could shatter.

For various reasons, I have stopped visiting my grandmother for quite some time now; but recently, I went back there. I was eager to revisit those streets and places that were so dear to me. As I was heading towards there, I could just smell those warm nights, hear the people talking around me, just like a hum, just like a nursery rhime. I got there, and I couldn’t help but being heartbroken. Empty. The streets, the yards, the park, my heart. The street where I spent hours playing, singing, running and laughing, the street that used to be filled with children, with colorful toys, and flowers, and people, empty. I was sad. Not so much for myself, but for those children who will probably never know what it’s like to go home filled with mud, what it’s like to go running to your mamma or granny because of falling down while having the time of your life. I remember climbing trees, playing catch, playing hide and seek, getting dirty, running, screaming, living. They’ll never have that. And it makes me sad. I kept walking, and the empty streets were unraveling in front of me, like a canvas. I could just paint my own images, revisit my memories, it was as if I could see my friend, hear them, be happy with them again. For jsut a split second, I was a kid.

It gave me comfort, having experienced that. I hope I will be able to instill those desires in my own children. I hope they will live in a world where all that will still be possible, accesible.

And for myself… I hope that later, when I shall have done everyting I set out to do, I will be able to sit back, enjoy the ones that I love, watch my children be happy, hold my grandsons… all this in a world that is still ruled by love.

I came home to you.

As I lay in my bed, trying to invest my last bit of energy into something creative, I can’t help but feel a sort of anxiety. The good kind. I can’t get around to falling asleep, as I want the feeling that I have to last a bit longer.

In the midst of the hectic life I seem to be having lately, I took the time to get back in touch with an old love of mine. As I was getting ready, it was almost as if I could sense the scent of it. Oh, how I’ve missed you. It saddens me that I often don’t take the time to do the things I long so much to do, see the people I miss so much, say the things I want to say. It’s something I always encourage in others, but more often than not, giving advice is quite easier than following them yourself.

I knew it was going to be splendid. I reminisced of the last time we got together, of how I felt. But before it all sinked in, I found myself rushing through the door. I was late. Well, no surprise there. I’m (in)famous for my mishaps as far as being there on time. It doesn’t really matter if I’m going to the grocery store, a date or to class, I always find a way to leave a bit later that planned. Headphones on, worries off, it was going to be just you and me. Just like it used to be.

I walked. Faster. And then faster, until I found myself doing a weird speed walking thing. It didn’t matter. I was close. So close.

I was there. I made it. I’m here. I’ve missed you.

The crunch, the smell, the colors, the sounds.

I made it. Peace. Calm. Home.

The forest. Nature. I’m back.

Torn

I always seem to find myself torn between the person I am and the person seciety or social etiquette requires me to be. Quite like my father, I am a person of strong principles. I set a standard, for myself and for those around me, and I try, everyday, to live up to it. But more often than not, I find that I have to compromise those very principles I so much care for in order to be part of  a social circle; heck, in order to have any friends at all. Granted, I am quite an “odd duck” when it comes to handling the art of living.

It’s always hard to stay true to yourself; so try to trust yourself, your instincts, people, ponder before doing something radical, find balance, adapt, and most importantly, love yourself. Live firstly for you, but with the interest of others within reach.

Thoughts

It’s hard to learn the lesson; this, I’ve learned.

You go through a heartbreak, you fail, you miss, you give up, and you always wind up spending endless hours thinking, reminiscing, tormenting yourself with all those “what if”s, just so that, in the end, you comfort yourself with the thought “Well, al least I’ve learned my lesson!”. But did you, did you really? Won’t you find yourself in a warm august night hoping, anticipating, lusting, imagining, dreaming… waiting… ?It’s a story as old as time. We’re somewhat masochistic creatures. We hurt, and we hurt bad, but we always seem to spiral back to that despair, maybe in an attempt to feel alive, to feel emotions, to… feel.

But there’s really little one can do. You can strive, fight and hope some more. And at the end of the day, one day, any day, you’ll wake up, glance deep into your soul and think to yourself: “it was all worth it”

 

Get happy!