Confidence

I am nineteen years old and yet my love life is that of someone in their mid-twenties...

Like most of us I met my first love in high school. Last year of school, the moment where everyone should be focusing on their grades, but no one is... Parties and falling in love, that was our schedule. M was my first true love and we had an on-off relationship for over a year. I was 16 back then, and still had some principles. No sex before three months of relationship, because then it would mean, it is something serious. We had five great months, until the cheating started. Not from my side of course. One day I came home, stormed into the living room, jumped on the couch and cried my heart out onto my sisters lap. I cried and I cried, and I could barely keep down the tears at dinner. Of course, my parents could never know that the boy I had told them so much about was a liar and a cheater... especially not if I knew that I would forgive him and win him back. No matter what. And I did. But two months later, history repeats itself... and I forgave, and he cheated, and I forgave... and it went on for 16 months. Until I moved to another country, which helped me finally get the courage to leave him behind... I know, you are all telling yourselves, "Well if he had done that to me, I would never forgive him", but trust me, when you are in love you are willing to do so much, because you feel that losing him will be much more painful than staying with him, even when it means waking up in the night, because you are in so much pain. Those deep feelings can wake you from the deepest dreams and make you sit on the cold floor crying and crying without knowing how to stop.

From that day on, every country I would go to, would lead to another boyfriend. Starting with a Romanian in Montreux (Switzerland for the less cosmopolicious people amongst us), passing on to a Bulgarian in Geneva, spending the christmas holidays and new years with a Filipino in Manila and Valentines Day with another Filipino in Boston. 

And here I am now, living in Paris, with a Serbian boyfriend that lives in Belgrade. And the closer the end of my internship is coming, the more I can feel that once again we are not going to make it.

It's this distinct feeling when you know something is going terribly wrong somewhere, but you don't know how to fix it... and you think and think and think, until you get to the point where you are just not sure if you actually still want to fix it. 

My first love broke my heart in a way, that it may be fixed now, but it is incapable of forgetting... and therefore always doubting.

I'm a just a small and young girl, in a big city that is looking for some love... but I can't trust and I can't be trusted.

So I get into a plane and fly far away from all the heartbreak... but when I arrive at the airport and come out of customs with my suitcase in one hand and the pieces of my heart in the other, there is no one there to pick me up. I see all these people coming together, smiling, crying and full of happiness because they managed to find each other again... and all I am looking for, is the nearest taxi stand.

Maybe just this once, my intuition could be wrong, and things will get better, because I believe in him, but I am not sure if he believes in me... I need him to love me, because I need this to work. I am tired of being alone, and I want someone to stand at the airport, waiting for me, and have a smile brighten up his face when our eyes meet each other, and I know... I'm home.