Did I return or leave home?

I left Manila. It's been more then 24 hours since I left the country I call home: the Philippines. My friends, my family... and my person. All that is left behind and I am back in Munich. Alone.

Being alone is never a problem in Manila... I can spend hours in the condo by myself feeling perfectly fine. But when I am here, I feel lonely very fast.

This is the house where I grew up. This is the first place I should think of, when I am feeling lost and I want to go to a place that feels like a safe harbor. But it's not.

Whenever I leave Manila, I feel like I have to be so much stronger, because there is no one here to catch me if I fall. Funny enough, I am never "depressed" in Manila even though it would be fine, because my best friends are there to support me, to keep me from hitting to hard on the hard-floor of reality. I only get sad and frustated in the worst moments. The moments where I am alone at home, it's pitch-dark night in Manila, so I can't even call around the globe to hear that voice that can save me right now, that's usually when the pain hits me. The pain of not having found someone to love yet, or the pain of having found someone, but not being loved back. 

I never knew another home then the one I am in now... but I realized that it's not the physical things that matter. It's not the things I see, or the bed I sleep in, it's the people who surround me. Of course, I love coming back to my old room, seeing the whole pictures on the wall, and sleeping in my bed... but the older I get, the more it is something more emotional I seek. 

When I am in Manila, I feel like I AM someone. And better even, I feel like I can ME. So whenever I am too tired to go on, too tired to take another breath, I fly home. Tank up on my energy so I can go back to work, to life, to friends and family. Home is where I put all the broken pieces back together so I can live a normal life wherever I live in that moment. Home is where my "person" lives. The one person that doesn't judge, that can tell me anything without me being offended, the one person that loves me and that I love unconditionally without being my family. My best friend, my sister, my person.

Starting a new year

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.... HAPPY NEW YEAR!

A new year has started... It's 2009. I can't really believe how fast time has passed... I am graduating college in June and I hardly even realised it has already been three years since I finished high school. I'm finally turning 21 this year and it seems that a lot of changes lie ahead. 

Like everyone in the world, I have been thinking and thinking what could be my new years resolution. But I can't seem to come out with anything smart...

Resolution 1: I will only date guys with whom it is actually possible to build a stable relationship.

Resolution 2: I will be nicer to my parents and less short-tempered

Resolution 3: Less parties and more thoughts about what I am going to do next

The problem is, I don't like making resolutions because they never work out.

We tell ourselves this year is going to be different, this year is going to be MY year. But then we end up disappointed because we look back at what has happened and the year doesn't seem to have been as eventful as we hoped.

My 2008 was not good nor bad. Love was not on my side this year, but my career was... I look back and don't really regret anything I have done. Of course there are always minor things that I would change if I could, but all in all I am pretty satisfied. 

So what do I wish for 2009? I really don't know... I guess my resolution is really going to be: 

I won't make my happiness dependent on anyone else but me. Whatever happens is meant to be, and to every rainy day there is a sunny one to follow... 

Getting caught up in memories

My first boyfriend and me were together for a year and a half. We were happy. It was not always easy... there were tears, fights and apologies but there were also deep feelings for each other, real connection and beautiful moments. We separated when I moved to another country... I never felt so hurt in my whole life, then when I stepped into the plane that would end my first love. 

It has been two years now and him and me are still in touch. We call each other occasionally and always plan on meeting up but never get to do it for some reason... 

Except for this one time a few weeks ago. I was home in Munich for a short stop-over before flying to the Philippines... and we actually managed to see each other. And I got caught up in memories.

Everything was the way it used to be... he came to my house, we were lying in bed and talking about everything that has happened since the last time we saw each other, we had dinner with my parents, drove to his house, got ready to go out, met with his friends to pre-drink and went clubbing with each other. He was hugging me in the club, giving me a massage when my back was aching, and he wanted me to sleep-over at his place, since I already missed my ride home...

And I said no, because even though being with him felt so right, it was very wrong. He has a girlfriend, we said we had moved on, we decided that we couldn't be together anymore and that was the most painful decision I ever took, but it's a decision I wasn't going to change... 

And now I miss him... I wonder what would have happened if I would have just gone home with him. Being with him always made me feel safe... 

Memories are dangerous, they can break your heart, even when you thought it healed a long time ago...

There is this boy I dated last year, it was only a month, but there was this special something between us that is very rare to find... When I left the country we knew that there was no point of having a long distance relationship, since we hadn't been dating for a very long time, but we kept in touch... I was naive enough to think that when I would come back we could just continue where we left it off... It worked for exactly one night. And then everything broke to pieces. He ignored me, I was upset, he got mad because I was being dramatic, I got pissed, we aren't speaking...

Memories are scary, because some memories are better locked up some place where they can never be released again...

Some memories just hurt...

Coming home

My mom is a filipina, my dad is french, I was born and raised with my sister in Germany, I study in Switzerland and I work in France. I could not be more of a vagabond if I wanted to...

The only thing I hate when meeting new people, is when they ask me were I come from. I don't really have a country I can call my own. I am french, but I never lived in France. I am German, but there is no german blood in me. I am filipina, but I don't speek the language and don't know the culture, I am Swiss but only a few months a year.

After years of years of wondering where I am from I realised there is no easy answer to that question... and there doesn't have to be. My job requires me to travel anyways, so having no real "roots" makes it easier for me... I don't feel like I am leaving something behind, but more like I am gaining something new.

It took me a long time to figure out where HOME was... The realisation came when I met my best friends. Home is where your heart is. Home is that one place in the world you want to be when you are happy, when you are sad and when you just don't want to be alone... And for me that place is Manila. My best friends live here. It's not the city or the parties that make me feel like I am not a stranger when I am here, it's those special people that make me feel like everything will always be alright. That can actually convince me that even though today it may be raining, tomorrow the sun will shine again, I just have to have faith.

I love my friends, because after years of searching where I belong, they gave me a home to come back to whenever I needed to tank up some energy when I feel like the world is crashing down on me and I don't know how to make it to the next day...