My hands are impatient. They want to write out my thoughts in words and metaphors. But my mind is still hesitant. Because, why would I want to reminisce about all the hardship, all the pain that I’ve suffered from this year?
For closure, my heart whispers.
I need to write it off my mind. I need to create space for brand new memories and a sense of hope.
So, here it comes…
A Year of Challenges & Growth
This year has been one of the toughest years of my life. These months taught me how to be independent, but also showed me that I shouldn’t be alone that often.
I danced with devils, whom I thought were angels. I ran into danger and I rushed into love, like a naive little child. And I felt no fear, which was more dangerous than the dance itself.
I moved to the city of my dreams and thought I would finally find a place to call home. And I did, I did find a home in city lights and corner cafes, in parks and avenues. In museums and gardens, on bridges and places with a view.
I learned to be by myself, to take care of only me. No curfew, no rules, no boundaries. I felt so damn free.
Bookstores fed me with wisdom and poetry. Train rides allowed me to get lost in the sounds. Primrose Hill forced me to look inwards and the city streets let me vanish in the crowd.
The city was a place in which I could disappear. A place where I could start brand new, with no one knowing my name. I felt like I was changing, like I was finally fitting in. This city was a dream, a dream which I was in.
This part of earth was amazing, so colorful and bright. Full of opportunities and room to grow. I would get lost among strangers, smile at buildings and dance with the rain. At times I would feel like I was floating and reality was finally on my side.
I let the wind take me, wherever, whenever. My feet just couldn’t stop walking. I wanted to see everything and experience it all. Maybe I was a bit too excited for my body to take. Because this carelessness didn’t last too long.
The city didn’t always feel like a fairytale. The place was lonely as hell. I knew fewer friends than strangers and I missed my family.
Everything was unknown and I had to start from scratch. Meeting people wasn’t easy and a lot of time I would just get stuck in my head.
God, it was challenging to find my place. I felt like I did belong here, but I just couldn’t find my way.
Living was expensive and my apartment dirty and uncomfortable. I managed to decorate my room in a particular way, so it felt like home. I hung fairy lights and put down photographs, burnt candles and tried to clean the dust.
I created my sweet little space, in which I would feel safe. But the room turned into a prison when heartbreak hit me in the face.
I found a home in strangers, that offered me shelter for a little while, but also made my heart homeless and broken. I dreamt in beds, different from my own. I held the softest hands, that were a bit too soon with getting to know me (read: my body).
I kissed a poet and a lawyer, a singer, a barman (and an outlaw that was innocent). All of them tasted so sweet, but they left me with nothing but bittersweet memories.
Three major heartbreaks, caused by beautiful boys from the city, have scarred me forever. But God, the moments, in which love was present, were beyond magic.
How I adored them, their eyes and their laughter, their accent and the way my name lingered on their honey lips.
I remember the touching of hands in dusty brown northbound cafes, the wandering across the river and the dancing lights at Southbank. I recall the late-night conversations and the kisses on my collarbone, the craving, the longing and the horrifying sound of them leaving me on my own.
I can’t walk past those cafes again. Particular underground stations still feel haunted. In bookstores, I see authors with similar names, in crowds I look for their faces. I mistake silhouettes for other bodies that were once entangled with mine. I avoid eye contact with strangers, that look a little too much like you and I.
I still hate the way their hearts turned cold, their hands grew stronger, their eyes became darker and their words more bitter.
I’m still scarred and scattered, insecure and punished by my patterns. I wish we didn’t end things in such a cruel way. I wish there was still a spark, some love, I could save.
But I guess that all the love that was found, has gone to waste. All of it was taken by the past and washed away with the London rain. And the love that got lost, won’t ever be found again.
I met a man whose intentions seemed to be pure in the beginning.
He acknowledged my musical talent and adored my classic style. He promised me he would give everything to make all of my effort worthwhile.
I knew at my core that there was something wrong and I did ignore the feeling in my gut. He was very manipulative and persuasive as well. He played with my dreams and said I couldn’t reach any success without him.
I could talk about this more in detail, but the images still haunt me and there’s so much I want to forget. He took advantage of me when I was at my weakest and he crept inside my head.
His intentions changed along the way. He became more scary with the day. He screamed at me and then pulled me closer, while I pushed him away. He couldn’t keep his hands off of me, the look in his eyes was terrifying.
He harassed me physically and mentally too.
I still feel his dirty fingers moving across my leg and him saying: “I would never hurt you”.
The police got involved and I needed to move back to my hometown. I was traumatized and shivering, every nerve in my body couldn’t stop shaking.
Back home I felt defeated, used and betrayed. I felt broken, damaged and devastated. I had to leave my favorite city, all of my friends and I had to bury some dreams.
I barely felt alive. Life had been sucked out of me. My energy was drained and I had trouble sleeping.
I decided to be a part of the system for a while. I started an internship, which will be finished in February.
The long days and the boring tasks keep me busy and give me some purpose, but the job doesn’t make me happy. But, I just have to remind myself that all of this is temporary. I will survive.
Not Meant To Be (As Usual)
For some time, there was a man that made living a bit easier. But he had trouble sticking around my demons. Like they all do.
After I moved back home I met a man, who I thought could be the one. I felt like the universe had sent him to me, to make up for all the lost love that had slipped through my fingers this year.
For the first time in my life, I felt like I had finally entered an adult relationship, composed of two mature people. We talked and discussed our disagreements. He taught me to be more rational and I helped him touching his feelings.
We fantasized about traveling and living together. In shops, we would take a look at decorations and kitchen equipment.
Every day and every night we talked on the phone to minimize the distance. We cracked our brains discussing art and the universe, our jobs and existence.
Our dates were in different cities. We left our marks on every station and on every street. He used to steal kisses in every corner and every alley.
He helped me a lot with the healing of my trauma, but he couldn’t quite understand my past. Nonetheless, we had so much fun and there was so much love. It was like all the novels about romance were inspired by all that was living between us.
But, he couldn’t handle the physical distance between us and my heavy heart. And so he left.
I do blame him for breaking up with me in such a heartless way, but I am grateful for all the beautiful memories.
2019 was a year of chasing dreams and being forced to take a step back.
A year of growing up and becoming independent, but also realizing I still need my parents.
A year of so much romance, but all of this love got lost and faded away.
A year of losing my soul and getting back on my spiritual path.
A year in which self-love was the only thing that could save me.
2019 was challenging. It was a year full of lessons.
2020, please be good to me
Happy new year ❤