As the seasons change ...

I’d just left your flat that Monday morning to start another mundane week at work. And as I turned the corner, I saw the pavement full of dried yellow leaves. Autumn was well and truly here. We were so hidden away in our little cocoon all weekend, we didn’t even notice how dry and windy it had been outside.

I guess that’s really the kind of relationship we have - lost in our own special little world, completely unknown to the world around us.
I still remember the first time we met, drinking wine on a cold spring evening, the last traces of winter still crisp in the night air. 

We didn’t even realise how that spring changed into summer, and now summer's given way to autumn.
And that’s what made those beautiful yellow leaves on the ground so very special - they were a sign of yet another change of season. A sign of how long we’ve been together.




A year ago, I was eagerly awaiting the end of the cold and lonely winter months. And now, I can’t wait for it to arrive. I can’t wait to cuddle up on the couch with you, drinking mulled wine by the Christmas tree, and watching re-runs of sappy holiday classics.



I can’t wait to stand outside in the freezing cold, with your arms wrapped around me, gazing at the fireworks lighting up the sky on New Year’s Eve, as we count down to the close of the most important year of our life.

And as the clock strikes midnight, I’ll kiss the man I want to usher in every New Year with from here on out....

The last of us ...

It’s over. Finally. It’s well and truly over.
And I’m not glad, or sad, or relieved. I’m not anything really.

All I’ve got is this really unsettling, hollow, sinking feeling.
Like the one person who could fix anything - anything - was just taken from me.
Like the tether that was holding me above the surface has finally broken.

I could be having the worst of days, but just talking to you would somehow make it all better.  You were my rock. You were the cornerstone of my life these past couple of years.
You were my refuge from the storm.

So much of the person I am today was based on how I felt about you. You weren’t my first love - the innocent, ever-lasting, anything-can-happen love.
You were my second. You were the one my guarded heart took a chance on. The one I was ready to trust no matter how badly it hurt the first time.
You taught me to believe in love again. And I knew I could always turn to you when I felt lost. You were my North Star guiding me home.

You were never mine to keep, but the love I had for you was. All those memories of my time with you - sitting by the river with the warm summer’s breeze and the stars shining brightly in the night sky - that was my happy place.
And I feel like I just lost all of that.

I thought I was letting you go that day in the spring over three years ago, as we said our goodbyes at the door of your flat. And as I walked towards the train station, towards a life without you, I never once looked back.
But I realise now, you didn’t need to be physically present to be a part of my life.
You were here all along. Every single day.
When I felt the need to tell you how my day was, to tell you about the boy I was dating, or the meal I cooked for lunch on a Sunday afternoon - to share not only the most important milestones from my life, but all of the boring mundane details of my everyday.
All that incessant texting throughout the day, 5 am phone calls just to catch up - you weren’t here but somehow, you always were

Until one day two weeks ago, when I was sat on my couch, talking to you on the phone, and I felt nothing. For the first time in all these years, I felt nothing at all. The sheer sound of your voice didn’t fill my heart with a longing to run towards you. To forget everything and fly halfway across the world to somehow make it work between us.

Through all these years, if I ever sat down to ask myself what would make me happy, truly happy, I knew it wasn’t where I was living or my friends or my job. It was you. It’s always been you.

And now, I no longer know.

It’s a strange, sinking feeling. Like I no longer know where my happy is.
No longer know where I belong.
I no longer know where home is ...

Sure the world’s my oyster, but when you’ve got no one to share your every day with, it can be an incredibly lonely and frightening place ....

All the wrong people

We aren’t afraid of getting involved,

we’re afraid of getting hurt

We aren’t afraid of exclusivity,

we’re afraid of losing out on back up options

We aren’t afraid of commitment,

we’re afraid of loneliness

We aren’t afraid of falling in love,

we’re afraid of having our hearts broken

We aren’t afraid of getting married,

we’re afraid of ending up with the wrong person ...

And after years of meaningless words and empty promises,

And failed relationships with all the wrong people,

Who can blame us anyway ... ?

Better be running ..

Every morning in Africa, a gazelle wakes up. It knows it must outrun the fastest lion or it will be killed.

Every morning in Africa, a lion wakes up. It knows it must run faster than the slowest gazelle, or it will starve.

It doesn't matter whether you're the lion or a gazelle - when the sun comes up, you'd better be running..

Change

“ And here’s a big part of the journey:

recognising that just because something is, that doesn’t mean that it’s right.

Having the courage to change when you know you should,

even when that change is difficult ... ”

"I sometimes wonder, poets, singers, painters.. how do they do it?

They haven't lived my life. Yet they speak of things that only I know or feel. My darkest thoughts, my most cherished memories, my moments of depression, my dreams... They pass it off in the tersest of phrases

Is my life so ordinary, that the broadest brush strokes can describe it?

Or is it so extraordinary, that they can make a living out of it?"

Do you ever truly get over someone?

As I look around myself, I see people go from dating to steady long term relationships, to either marrying each other or breaking up. All in pursuit of that elusive thing known as love.

And I can’t help but wonder, as you fall in and out of love with people, do you ever really stop loving them?

Imagine walking down the street and bumping into an ex from five years ago. Sure you’re both leading different lives now, and they’re probably not the person they were back then. But isn’t there always a piece of your heart that never stops feeling the same way about who they used to be? A part of you that’s still twenty years old, still dreamy eyed about this new and exciting relationship, about this idea of the person they used to be.

Even if it’s someone you’ve had a fantastic date with, and, for some reason, never heard from again. Is it really that easy to simply switch off how you felt about them that one evening, and move on? Or is there a small part of you that can remember their crooked smile, or their brown eyes, or the way their lips touched yours as you leaned in for your first kiss, oblivious to the rest of the world around you?

Social norm dictates that when things are over, the only way to move on is to totally and completely get over someone. But realistically speaking, is that ever possible?

Do you ever truly get over someone who was such a significant part of your life, whether it was for four years in your twenties, or for four hours one evening?

I see people struggling in new relationships because a piece of them is still stuck with someone from their past, and we’ve all been raised to believe this is impermissible.

But wouldn’t it be a lot easier if we were able to accept that there isn’t really anything wrong with that? That the fact that you were capable of loving someone so fully and unselfishly, of letting them be a part of your very being, is, in fact, the only right way of being with someone? 

Because, at the end of the day, that person doesn’t exist anymore. That relationship is over. And nothing good can come out of forcing ourselves to stop feeling a certain way about them. Nothing good can come out of trying to replace an old lover with a new one.

If you find yourself trying to compare the person you’re with with your ex, or feel like you would still give them another shot if they want to get back together with you, you’re clearly not ready to start something new.

But if the only problem is that there’s a part of you that still respects and loves someone you used to be with, but doesn’t want to be with them anymore, it doesn’t necessarily have to take away from your present.

Who we are as a person is a product of our experiences. And great dates and ex lovers are a significant part of that.
And as long as we are capable of truly and completely giving ourselves to the next person we’re with, that’s all it should take to tell us that we’re ready for the next great adventure.

Still standing ..

"Maybe we're not supposed to be happy.

Maybe gratitude has nothing to do with joy.

Maybe being grateful means recognizing what you have for what it is. Appreciating small victories. Admiring the struggle it takes simply to be human.

Maybe we're thankful for the familiar things we know.

And maybe we're thankful for the things we'll never know.

At the end of the day, the fact that we have the courage to still be standing is reason enough to celebrate."

His socks

I was climbing down the stairs from my local train station, and I saw this man in front of me - three day stubble, messy hair, jeans folded up above his ankles, funny coloured socks. I couldn’t help but notice his bright yellow socks against a grey winter’s day. With green stripes across them, and black and white prints of Timon and Pumbaa from the Lion King.
He was walking along with his fingers entwined in the sleek, elegant fingers of a beautiful girl. She had her head on his shoulder and a soft smile on her face. She didn't care about his unkempt hair, or faded jeans, or his socks. She was happy just to have this wonderful man in her life. To share her everyday with him. To be his.

We are so arrogant, so selective about the people we associate ourselves with. We want that perfect man or woman that everyone approves of. Someone who checks all the boxes, not just the ones on our list, but also those of our friends, family, colleagues...

But what we tend to forget is that we aren't perfect. Not even close. We all have our annoying habits and unconventional choices, our emotional baggage, our colorful socks. We don't need someone perfect. We need someone perfect for us. We need someone who will put up with all of those flaws, and accept us in spite of them. Someone who will still wake up every day and want to be with us. Someone who is willing to ignore all of those checklists, and hold our hand, and show us off to the world.

Because at the end of the day, none of those things matter. Not age or race or career choices or financial stability. Society may ridicule and judge couples who don't fit into their cardboard cut out of the perfect relationship. But what this society doesn't see, what it can't see, is the way they feel about each other. The way her kiss makes his heart race. The way his stolen glances give her butterflies. Anyone can see what he's good at but she's the one person who is allowed to see his imperfections. To everyone else, she may be guarded, but with him, she lowers her defences and lets herself be completely vulnerable. No one can see those little details. The perfect love that these two imperfect people share. It's their own little secret, unknown to the world around them.

Even the most seemingly well matched couple can't have what they have. Every love, every relationship is different. If no two people are alike, how can what they share be?

The thing to remember is, different doesn't make it any less real. Or any less special.

And that man with the funny socks might just be the one she'll happily grow old with.

I hate the holiday season

I love the festive cheer. The tinsel and twinkling lights. The snowflakes and warm fireplaces. The mulled wine and warm pudding. I love the build up to the holiday season, and the promise of a new year.

Yet something about the holidays makes this amazing city of 8 million people feel like the loneliest place on the planet. I walk past Christmas tree displays, on streets glowing with lights trying to fight the harsh winter night, and as I breathe in the crisp air, I find myself getting lost in the sheer beauty of the scene.

I stare at shop windows, wondering how it would feel to scramble like those around me, buying last minute gifts for loved ones they'll spend the season with.

How it would feel to drink a glass of mulled wine by the fireplace, sharing the warmth with another. Keeping the cold out on the street, where cold things belong. Not here inside my room, with a single tea light fighting a losing battle against the darkness. Struggling to keep me company as I gaze into the night, silently longing for a story that has never been mine. Wondering if it will ever feel any different. If I'll ever be first priority for another. If I'll have someone reach out for my hand as we walk in the snow. If I'll have someone tug my hair behind my ears and kiss me, as the year comes to a gentle, quiet close.

I blow out the tea light and climb into the cold bed, trying to warm my bare feet, and I turn towards the one companion of even the loneliest soul - my imagination.

I imagine what it'd be like sharing this moment with that special person. I create an elaborate tapestry of words, and whispers, and soft kisses, and gentle caresses.

And I drift away with his arms wrapped around me. That blue inch of half consciousness right before I fall asleep, when I'm at my most human and most vulnerable, yet somehow feeling safe. Warm.

Protected from the broken pieces of yesterday, shielded from the harsh reality of tomorrow,  when I have to wake up by myself, and face another long cold winter's day.

There's no escaping 2 am.

That time of the night when you're done with your tv shows, and your books, and your finger mindlessly swiping across the screen of your phone, glancing through stories that aren't yours.

That time when you're lying in your bed, and you're alone. Truly alone. With nothing but your thoughts to keep you company. And you let your mind wander back to memories of a simpler time. A time when it wasn't so difficult to be by yourself. When you weren't so afraid of solitude. When just a thought didn't fill every inch of your body with longing. A longing for a story that simply isn't meant to be yours. When every moment of the day wasn't such a struggle to get through. When you didn't feel like all you wanted was to hit the stop button, and somehow, just for a moment, stop all feeling.

And then you turn around to an even colder side of the bed and hug the pillow, praying for sleep to come soon, giving you a chance to escape into the world of dreams - a world where you can smile, without that constant ache buried inside.

A world where you finally stop feeling so. fucking. damaged.

Yes, there's no escaping 2 am.

"The place where it all started ..."

I've been thinking about writing this for a while now, but for some reason, I've had the toughest time just trying to put down in words how I feel about it all - about you, about things as they stand, and about how much has changed ever since you've been gone, and yet still seem to be all around me.

I know it's been a while since you've left this place, and gone back to your beautiful tropical paradise, back home... But it feels like everywhere I look, I'm faced with reminders of you. I wake up to a bright sunny morning, and the first thought in my head is how much you love such days. I go to Starbucks and I can't help but muse over your obsession with strong, full of flavor black coffee. I see people at weekend brunches and it takes me back to that beautiful Sunday morning we met for coffee and took a walk by the riverside with the sun shining down at us, and a light breeze blowing - for those few hours, there was nothing wrong with my world, nothing more I wanted, it was perfect. One of the many perfect times I've spent with you.

I remember it all, every little detail - the clothes I was wearing, the drink you always ordered, the extra hot hot chocolate, the chocolate cake for breakfast and lunch, that night at the bar when you held my hand for the first time right before you were leaving and you just held on for a little longer. I remember Christmas drinks, and new year's wishes, and of course, the gift. It's all so deeply etched inside me, I can't believe that it's been so long. 

And it's really hard sometimes, thinking about all the time I spent with you, and realizing that it's all in the past. But what scares me more is the thought of forgetting any of it. I know I'd rather remember all this stuff that makes me feel real inside, even if it hurts, than ignore and try to forget and just be numb to it all. I feel like I'm just trying to get by each day without breaking down, without being mad about how unfair it all is. I'm trying not to run away from people and places that remind me of you, but some days are just more difficult than others.

Time with you went by so fast, I barely knew you and it was over, yet when I look back, it feels like no time has passed at all. I can close my eyes and relive every conversation, every joke, every moment, everything...

I don't know what I was to you, or if there are any reminders of me in this new life you've got. I don't even know what you are to me anymore. I don't know if it was friendship, or love or just that messy grey area in between. All sane, sensible, realistic thinking went out the window the moment you told me you were leaving. For in that moment, I realized how much you still meant to me. No matter how much I denied it, no matter how much I convinced myself that I was over you, you were still just as important to me as you'd always been. And you always will be. You were the one person who made me feel a little less lost and a little more self assured when I needed it the most. And for that I am forever grateful. I will never understand why it all had to end so abruptly, so soon, but every time I talk to you, I can see how incredibly happy you are, and I know it was the right thing for you. You deserve to be happy, wherever you are.

As for me, I'm taking your advice and trying to be brave. And even if there's nothing else left for you on this island, there will still be the girl who makes you laugh...

Careful

You know the people you got to be careful with?

It's not the ones who mess with you or play mind games, 
who lie and talk behind your back. 
Sure you need to be wary of them, but they aren't the most dangerous, no.

The people you really gotta watch out for, 
they are the ones who change your life from the moment they walk into it. 

The ones who make every moment better just by being there. 

The special ones - who make the most mundane things seem extraordinary.

The people who make you laugh ...

Because when it's over,

when they have to get up and leave,

nothing is ever the same again ...

Uncertain. Alone. Cratered by Imperfections.

The moon is a loyal companion.

It never leaves. It’s always there, watching, steadfast, knowing us in our light and dark moments, changing forever just as we do.

Every day it’s a different version of itself. Sometimes weak and wan, sometimes strong and full of light. The moon understands what it means to be human.

Uncertain.

Alone.

Cratered by imperfections.

- Tahereh Mafi, Shatter Me



 

I guess this is it then

"You watch too many films" - It took a random stranger to make me realize the effect you've had on me.

Falling in love with you has moved me. Changed me. Made me a better person.

At the same time, however, not meaning anything more than a friend to you made me miserable. I could be laughing and bantering happily all the time, yet at the end of the day, I would be thinking about you.

At the first opportunity I saw, I ran to get away from you. I couldn't bear to be around you, to have you in my life yet not have you for myself. I changed my entire life - changed where I live, changed my friends - everything. Yet when I went to bed at night, a million miles away, just hearing the sound of the river at night reminded me of you.

But I realize now, if you run for long enough and try to get as far away as you can, eventually you do learn to move on with your life. And I guess that's what's happened. I moved on. It seems like it may finally be over. Oddly however, it doesn't make me feel happy or relieved to realize that I'm over it. That I am not in love with you anymore. It actually makes me feel sad.

Sad at the knowledge that I don't feel that way about you. That it will take a while for me to let my guard down and feel that way about someone again. Sad at realizing that I have lost out on someone as amazing as you.

You had the best of me, and I expected nothing in return.

But I guess it took a random conversation with a total stranger to realize that may be, just may be, I do deserve a little bit more.

Maybe I deserve someone who would entwine his fingers in mine as we walked, drop me back home no matter how much I insisted that he didn't have to, and kiss me as we said goodnight, right there in the middle of the road, at two am on a cold winter night.

Maybe it's time for me to have a little more faith in myself and stop settling for whatever I get.

I may never hear from this guy again. And he probably forgot all about our little adventure as he woke up the next morning. But I'm glad it happened - the perfect night. A bit like Jesse and Celine from Before Sunrise - yes, I've become a movies person. But I guess that's a little bit of you that will always be with me, long after I've moved on ...

This one's for you

For believing in me when I'd lost faith in myself. For challenging me every step on the way. For shaking me out of my comfort zone and forcing me to think about where I was standing and where I wanted to be.

Everyone understands relationships and love and the likes. But what we had, it was so much more than that. It was friendship - pure and simple. No ulterior motive, no complications. Yet, funnily enough, the dynamics of our friendship have always been so much more complicated! I suppose, at the end, that's what made it so special.

My most memorable times aren't from clubbing or beach parties. It's that moment that I was sitting in your room, the night before I was leaving, and you gave me a hug and told me it'll all be okay. And you held on for just a few seconds longer. I felt safe. Secure. I felt like no matter what changes, the friend I found in you will always be there.

The time when I had my head on your shoulder and we were listening to songs. And you put your arm around me. You knew I was beginning to cry, but you didn't say a word. No words would have helped. You just held me, like you always have.

The time when we ordered pizza, a few days before finals. We were sitting on the couches in the lounge. And we spent hours talking about our first year at university. About how things had started out, and how we had reached where we are now. We were both laughing and crying all at once. We had exams in a few days and both knew we should wrap up dinner and study, but somehow, that discussion, that time together was so much more important.

Yes, a lot has happened in these four years, and a lot has changed. A lot of people have grown up and grown apart. Yet some of us have managed to fight the odds and save what we've got. 

And I'm grateful that we were one of those.

I wanted to leave you a small note to say thanks. Thank you for all those memories. Thank you for holding me and telling me it'll be okay. Thank you for calming me down when I turned up at your door at 3 am, crying.

You've always been there, always understood, even the times when I felt like you didn't. 

And I don't know if I am even close to being the friend that you've been to me. 

But I promise I'll always be there whenever you need me. Every step of the way.

Thank you. For everything.

Walking Away

When I met you, I was still lost in someone else. Still a broken, incomplete person, dealing with the hurt from the past. Still trying to find myself in those pieces. 

Back then, I never thought I could ever feel that way about someone again. I thought that the next time I fall for someone, my heart would be more guarded, more afraid, less willing to take risks. Because that's the person I was back then. Every time I started to feel anything about someone, I would force myself to snap out of it. Pull myself back to rationality.

But then you walked in. At first, I didn't give it much thought. I didn't think I needed any safety because I saw you as just another person I would eventually pull myself away from. I didn't think of you as someone who was here to stay. When I first realized that you were becoming more important to me than I'd anticipated, I still believed that I had it under control, that it was just a rush of feelings on meeting someone new, that it would go away. 

And that was true till an extent. After a while, we lost touch. And that might have been the end of it. I was normal again. Or as close as it got to that. I would will myself back to rationality, prevent myself from thinking about you, distract myself. And it almost worked. Almost.

But even then, I guess there were always times when I knew I was lying to myself. I knew you mattered more than I cared to admit. And a little while later, you came traipsing back into my life. We talked, we laughed, we hung out. You knew things no one knew about me. And I would like to believe I knew a little bit more of you than most. You were caring and supportive. You were easy to talk to, and above all, you understood. You understood things others couldn't. It wasn't long in terms of time, but as far as friendships go, you were already one of the most important. I suppose that's really the type of person you are.

You were all wrong for me. You were trouble. And I knew there was absolutely no way that I would ever mean anything to you in the romantic sense. I knew I needed to stop risking everything, I needed to guard myself, come back to my senses. Yes, I knew all of that.

Yet, for some reason, I couldn't. When I was around you, I just never stood a chance. I was the irrational fool again. I was silly and sensible, irresponsible and grown up - all at the same time. I knew I was in over my head, despite my reluctance to the idea of getting serious about any other person again. A year ago, when I was still getting over things, I never thought I'd love someone again in the foreseeable future.

And now, if it was possible, I loved you even more. 

I could've gotten over it. I could've broken off all contact and moved on with my life. It wouldn't have been easy but it was possible.

But I didn't want to. Even when I knew nothing would ever come out of it, nothing could ever happen between us. For a variety of reasons, the idea of 'us' just wasn't possible. 

Yet I didn't want to end it. I didn't want to finish whatever it was that we had. I wanted to risk it.

I liked the person I was around you. I like the person you've made me. I've had my dark moments, but every time I was with you, I was happy. Truly happy. I was smiling. Laughing again. Something inside felt alive once more. After a long long time, I was willing to take a chance and lay everything on the line. I knew it would hurt when it ended, perhaps more than before. But with you, it was worth it. 

I loved you. I loved you enough to take chances. Enough to watch you with another, and still be happy. Enough to be happy with just knowing that I loved you. Without any expectation in return.

And that was the deal. I allowed myself to feel that way about someone again, but I would never let myself expect anything in return.

At least I was mature in that sense. I always knew where I stood, and where you were. I knew that the time I had with you wouldn't last, and that I had to make the best of it. I knew not to take things for granted. All those moments I spent with you, I knew how important they were. How I had to memorize it all, for it would all come to an end before I realized. I was aware of the frailty of love, and the ruthlessness of time.

And I was mature enough to accept that. No amount of time I spent with you would ever be enough. When it was time to leave, I had to pick myself up and leave. I had to call it quits and say goodbye. I had to remember the promise I made to myself at the beginning -- no expectations. 

And now that it's over, that is what I keep reminding myself.

You opened my heart again. You made me realize that eventually, its possible to get over past hurt, and fall in love. You made me willing to take chances and believe in love. That is perhaps the reason why it all happened. The reason you walked into my life. And now, a little while later, walked out.

It wasn't long in terms of calendar months. But to me, it seems like an entire lifetime. I am a new person thanks to you.

I will always love you. And when I look around me, there are more than a few reminders of things that you said or did. But that's all there will be to it. Memories. Conversations I can play in my head. Moments that I can relive every time I close my eyes. 

You will move on, have a life of your own. One I never have and never will fit into. You'll find someone else who will make you feel the way I feel about you. And at the end, that's what I want for you. I don't have to be with you. It's enough for me to know that I love you.

Maybe I'll get over it, and in time find another hurricane that will sweep me off my feet, just like you did. Yet, all said and done, you are a person I will always remember fondly. Through a walk in the park during spring time, I'll imagine how it would be to have you beside me. What you would say or do. Or when the season's first snow falls, I'll imagine how it would be to share that moment with you. When candle light reflects off the stem of a wine glass, I'll see your deep brown eyes. And when I'm standing by the river on a moonlit night, I'll miss you.

Yes, I have to and I am, walking away, but I'll think about you. 
Every now and then, I'll think about you.

If it's meant to be?

Is there really a hidden meaning to everything? 

Behind all the small and large choices and decisions that we make every moment of every day, is it, in fact, a path that leads us to our destiny?

Karma. And the idea that all the hard work and efforts pay off. That a person gets what they truly deserve. 

And there's one fine day when the fog is lifted, and everything makes perfect sense.

Is there truly a grand scheme falling in place - one piece at a time?

Or is everything in our daily life just a haphazard stream of events? 

No big picture. No Karma. 

Just a series of decisions - with consequences, of which we are solely responsible.

Are we just grasping at ways to make sense of the reality we're faced with? 

Reassuring ourselves by taking comfort in the age old "everything happens for a reason" concept.

The way I see it, human beings are so small and insignificant, that it's hard for us to fathom a reality where there's no great big master plan.

For most of us, it's hard to accept a lot of what goes wrong in our day because we think it's unfair, or that we deserved better.

And perhaps that is the reason why this concept emerged - to make it easier to deal with reality. 

To help us make it through the day without breaking down. 

To keep fighting. 

Maybe its naive. Hell, even downright gullible. 

And sure it's wrong to take the easy way out, to expect things to happen without paying your dues, or to dismiss the importance of putting in time and effort altogether, and instead foolishly thinking, "It will work out, I deserve this."

Fate and destiny happen, in huge part, depending on the actions we take.

Having said that, at some stage, we need the motivation to keep struggling, despite the odds stacked against us. 

We need to feel that everything will be okay. 
That happiness - true happiness - awaits us. 

That somewhere along the line, there will be a moment when we realize why everything that went wrong, went wrong. 

An explanation for our failures. 

For the choices we were forced to make. 

For the people we had to leave behind for the sake of the bigger dream.

It's about keeping the faith - faith in ourself, in our abilities. 
Faith in some higher order or grand scheme of events slowly coming together just for us.

And, most of all, faith in the knowledge 
that even though, at this moment, 
it seems like the most difficult decision we've ever had to make, 

a few years down the line, we would gain the perspective and the wisdom to realize that this was the path we had to take to reach where we've reached. 
To achieve what we've achieved. 
And to become the person we were supposed to become, 
right from the start...

C'est La Vie

There's so much more to university than academics.

you spend these few years of your life learning how to live

learning how to laugh and to cry, 
to fight and to make up

learning how to respect others, and to appreciate differences

learning how to make it in the face of adversity,

beating the odds,

surviving,

getting hurt and picking yourself up again.

you spend these years realizing there's all kinds of love out there,
more than just romantic love

realizing what true friendship really means

realizing that there are people who wont judge you by your past mistakes,
who know there's more to you than that,
these people won't ridicule your dreams,
or try to bring you down.
instead they'll silently stand by you, 

and be there for you whenever you need them,
no matter how many silly fights or arguments you may have had.

these are the people you will begin to think of as family,

to love, and respect.

you spend these years growing up

making that journey from innocence into adulthood

making friends

falling in love, 

and then falling out of it!

dreaming, 
and having the courage to pursue those dreams,

making decisions that may well decide the course of the rest of your life.

and then one day, before you know it,

it's all over.

everyone you've grown to love is taken away and scattered.

and the more I look back at our time together,

the more I realize

that watching everyone get up and leave -- it sure as hell won't be easy.

and that's one last thing I hope these years teach me,

how to say good bye.

and let go.

What Happens When You Live Abroad

By Chelsea Fagan

|| Thought Catalog ||

A very dependable feature of people who live abroad is finding them huddled together in bars and restaurants, talking not just about their homelands, but about the experience of leaving. And strangely enough, these groups of ex-pats aren’t necessarily all from the same home countries, often the mere experience of trading lands and cultures is enough to link them together and build the foundations of a friendship. I knew a decent amount of ex pats — of varying lengths of stay — back in America, and it’s reassuring to see that here in Europe, the “foreigner” bars are just as prevalent and filled with the same warm, nostalgic chatter.

But one thing that undoubtedly exists between all of us, something that lingers unspoken at all of our gatherings, is fear. There is a palpable fear to living in a new country, and though it is more acute in the first months, even year, of your stay, it never completely evaporates as time goes on. It simply changes. The anxiousness that was once concentrated on how you’re going to make new friends, adjust, and master the nuances of the language has become the repeated question “What am I missing?” As you settle into your new life and country, as time passes and becomes less a question of how long you’ve been here and more one of how long you’ve been gone, you realize that life back home has gone on without you. People have grown up, they’ve moved, they’ve married, they’ve become completely different people — and so have you.

It’s hard to deny that the act of living in another country, in another language, fundamentally changes you. Different parts of your personality sort of float to the top, and you take on qualities, mannerisms, and opinions that define the new people around you. And there’s nothing wrong with that; it’s often part of the reason you left in the first place. You wanted to evolve, to change something, to put yourself in an uncomfortable new situation that would force you to into a new phase of your life.

So many of us, when we leave our home countries, want to escape ourselves. We build up enormous webs of people, of bars and coffee shops, of arguments and exes and the same five places over and over again, from which we feel we can’t break free. There are just too many bridges that have been burned, or love that has turned sour and ugly, or restaurants at which you’ve eaten everything on the menu at least ten times — the only way to escape and to wipe your slate clean is to go somewhere where no one knows who you were, and no one is going to ask. And while it’s enormously refreshing and exhilarating to feel like you can be anyone you want to be and come without the baggage of your past, you realize just how much of “you” was based more on geographic location than anything else.

Walking streets alone and eating dinner at tables for one — maybe with a book, maybe not — you’re left alone for hours, days on end with nothing but your own thoughts. You start talking to yourself, asking yourself questions and answering them, and taking in the day’s activities with a slowness and an appreciation that you’ve never before even attempted. Even just going to the grocery store — when in an exciting new place, when all by yourself, when in a new language — is a thrilling activity. And having to start from zero and rebuild everything, having to re-learn how to live and carry out every day activities like a child, fundamentally alters you. Yes, the country and its people will have their own effect on who you are and what you think, but few things are more profound than just starting over with the basics and relying on yourself to build a life again. I have yet to meet a person who I didn’t find calmed by the experience. There is a certain amount of comfort and confidence that you gain with yourself when you go to this new place and start all over again, and a knowledge that — come what may in the rest of your life — you were capable of taking that leap and landing softly at least once.

But there are the fears. And yes, life has gone on without you. And the longer you stay in your new home, the more profound those changes will become. Holidays, birthdays, weddings — every event that you miss suddenly becomes a tick mark on an endless ream of paper. One day, you simply look back and realize that so much has happened in your absence, that so much has changed. You find it harder and harder to start conversations with people who used to be some of your best friends, and in-jokes become increasingly foreign — you have become an outsider. There are those who stay so long that they can never go back. We all meet the ex-pat who has been in his new home for 30 years and who seems to have almost replaced the missed years spent back in his homeland with full, passionate immersion into his new country. Yes, technically they are immigrants. Technically their birth certificate would place them in a different part of the world. But it’s undeniable that whatever life they left back home, they could never pick up all the pieces to. That old person is gone, and you realize that every day, you come a tiny bit closer to becoming that person yourself — even if you don’t want to.

So you look at your life, and the two countries that hold it, and realize that you are now two distinct people. As much as your countries represent and fulfill different parts of you and what you enjoy about life, as much as you have formed unbreakable bonds with people you love in both places, as much as you feel truly at home in either one, so you are divided in two. For the rest of your life, or at least it feels this way, you will spend your time in one naggingly longing for the other, and waiting until you can get back for at least a few weeks and dive back into the person you were back there. It takes so much to carve out a new life for yourself somewhere new, and it can’t die simply because you’ve moved over a few time zones. The people that took you into their country and became your new family, they aren’t going to mean any less to you when you’re far away.

When you live abroad, you realize that, no matter where you are, you will always be an ex-pat. There will always be a part of you that is far away from its home and is lying dormant until it can breathe and live in full color back in the country where it belongs. To live in a new place is a beautiful, thrilling thing, and it can show you that you can be whoever you want — on your own terms. It can give you the gift of freedom, of new beginnings, of curiosity and excitement. But to start over, to get on that plane, doesn’t come without a price. You cannot be in two places at once, and from now on, you will always lay awake on certain nights and think of all the things you’re missing out on back home. 

The original article can be found here:

http://thoughtcatalog.com/2012/what-happens-when-you-live-abroad/