He made me cry, again. And he’s not even here anymore. I truly would have never thought that he could hurt me so much. I’ve given him so much power over me. Too much. Never again.
Vivid Sydney
5 Mar
I have found myself more nostalgic than usual these days, and one of the memories I find myself exploring more often is the 6 months exchange semester I spent in Australia and the freedom it brought. For the past year I have felt as if every decision concerning my life and my future was in someone else’s hands and it made me feel so weak so powerless. But in Australia, for 6 months, I, alone, was in charge of every waking moment and I pushed myself out of all my comfort zones to explore a new continent.
Why do we want what we can’t and shouldn’t have? or Jealousy
6 DecAirplanes, skype, facetime, whatsapp, viber, and all the technology we have nowadays at our disposal has enabled us to cut travel times, transcend time-zones, remain connected even when we are the furthest away we’ve ever been. Having been to more than 30 countries, going to school on a different continent and simply living to travel, I had always been grateful to the available technology to keep in touch with whomever I meet on my journeys and leave behind when I move on.
Truthfully, I was never a sentimentalist, never crying at the airports and hating to say good-bye, never worried about leaving family, friends, boyfriends, relationships of any kind behind. People told me I am cold-hearted, but I felt I am too young to be tied down and there was so much more ahead of me than anything I could possibly leave behind. I always managed to maintain a distance with respect to the people surrounding me, as I knew I would soon leave. Still, the internet helped me create a sense of an international community that I am part of, having friends all over the globe and knowing I have someone to visit or crash at in all these different places. I always used it more for simply checking in, stalking what people have been up to, making sure I maintain enough of a presence so that people don’t forget me rather than actually maintaining any significant contacts. I only skype my parents when they forgot to refill my card or I miss seeing my dog and probably have two life-long friends that I talk to once every couple of months to make sure we’re seeing each other when we find ourselves in the same country.
And now I get to my story, of how the unexpected happened, and how despite me carefully not forming any lasting emotional attachment in person, I ended up being totally messed up by one formed on the internet.
When home is not home anymore and How playing a 10k in Italy decided my future
28 MarWhen home is not home anymore and How playing a 10k in Italy decided my future
After travelling for 21 hours straight, crossing an ocean and having two lay-overs, I would have expected to drop dead of tiredness not have an epiphany. Yet, as I found myself over Los Angeles, looking through the little window of the plane, I felt a shiver down my spine and a warm feeling inside of me: “I’m coming home” was all I could be thinking.
This past week, I was technically closer to home than anytime before in the past 8 months: in Europe, with my parents. However, that is not my home anymore. In my parents’ house, where I’ve lived for 12 years, stands my empty room and that is a place I’ve been wanting to leave for at least 10 out of those. Seeing my parents for the first time in such a long time, I expected to be at least content. I wasn’t. I was annoyed at their joy of seeing me, at their smiles, at their hugs. I couldn’t stand their poor English and their insistent question and thirst of hearing and seeing me. I didn’t want it to be that way. I certainly felt bad pretending, smiling and telling stories, in order for them to indulge my every wish, which they did, without even thinking, just because they finally had their daughter back.
I don’t know yet if Los Angeles is my home. I haven’t exactly lived in the city for on campus, in a shielded bubble. However, I know for sure that it is not where my parents are anymore. Flying to Italy, I was excited: I would play tennis at a tournament again, I would hear a foreign language, I would eat delicious food and I would admire good-looking Italian men. It was the excitement of discovery. Flying back to the US, I was excited: I would be back, start anew, ready to take on a new quarter, change my life, motivated. It was the excitement of coming home, recharged, with grand plans. 8 months ago, I remember being on the same flight to LA, but having the exact opposite sentiment, the first one I described: the shiver of experiencing something new. I was a bright-eyed little girl going on an adventure, leaving home behind. Now, I come back here, almost an adult, content to have explored something new, but happy to be home.
But now, a little about Italy.