after everything that has happened

Photo via: Theo Gosselin

Everyone has their story. So this is ours. At least, it’s the one we started, but haven’t had the chance to continue. Just yet.

I met you only eight months ago. Eight of the most exciting, passionate, almost unreal, yet awful, heartbreaking and painful months. And the worst part is, I know don’t how it’s all going to end.

We’re both from the same little country in Europe, but we happened to meet across the globe, in India. Only a week and a half of my three month- backpacking trip had passed when I saw you. I remember visiting an Indian temple exactly one week earlier, tying a string of red yarn to a holy building and being allowed to make just one wish. I wished, harder than I had ever wished before, that I would find love. Not just any love, but my love. A love that would be breathtaking and mind-blowing. No, more like mind- consuming. And then, I saw you. And I knew it was you.

It was on a random street in India. It was my girlfriend and I. We hadn’t seen any western people since we had arrived, and were dying to talk to someone, anyone, besides each other. So when I saw you two tourist guys walking past us, I convinced her that we should follow you. So we walked behind you for a bit, until you stopped at a hat- stand. And then I heard you speaking the same language as us. I got so surprised and excited that I just started talking to you straight away. We were all so happy to see each other.

We got together that night. We all got drunk on cheap Indian wine. Somehow, you and I started holding hands. And ended up kissing. Then, without objection, You and I became Us. We had seven days together. The most intense seven days of my life. We spent every second of those days together. Making conversation, making love. With nothing on our minds but the need to get closer and closer.

After those seven days we parted ways, still holding on to everything we talked about; marriage, children and a life together. Both of us went on travelling, yet talking everyday for the next three months. And constantly thinking about each other. I remember listening to cheesy music and looking out at the road, fantasizing about us together.

Then it was time for me to travel home. And so I did. And so did you, even if only for a month before you went back. During that month you came to visit me for a week. It was different this time, seeing each other. Something had shifted, but it was still Us, the Us that I loved. We left things open. You were going to travel back and I was going to start school. But there was still a chance for us, later on.

At least that’s what I thought. Up until the evening of the day you left after our week together. You called and I knew right away that something was wrong. You told me everything, everything that I didn’t want to know. The worst of things. You had spent a night with someone else just a few weeks earlier. I couldn’t breathe. I panicked. So I did what I do best, I put on a smile and said it was ok. But, it wasn’t. I had had my heart broken once before. But this was something different. This time it was as if my whole being was crushed. I had so much trust in you. I had given you so much of myself. All of myself. The fact that we had such short time together is ridiculous. But the things we talked about, and the way we felt is something that no one else will ever understand. And it doesn’t matter if we were or weren’t together. You knew it would hurt me, destroy me. Yet, you must have thought it was worth it. Even though you said it meant nothing, it was still worth it. She was worth it. In that moment, she was worth my pain. And that’s the part that I can’t get over.

So here we are five months later. You’re still there and I’m still here. I haven’t wanted to talk these last couple of months. But you’ve still reached out for contact, which I sometimes have responded to and other times not. You’re coming home in just about a month. And I'm so scared. I am scared of breaking down crying the minute I see you. I am scared of even making the decision of whether or not I want to see you at all. And I scared of the answer I will get from you. Because after everything that has happened I still want you. I want the rest of the story, I want the whole fucking book. I want Us, the Us that I fell in love with.

i love you because...

Photos via: Marija Strajnic | We Heart It

when it comes to love

Photo via: Maria Dangelo

Life is really interesting the way it turns out. Especially in the transition from being a child to being an adult. You may escape reality for a while, but it catches you up and scares you from behind.
What seems like a brilliant love story always has its pain. Nothing turns out as it looks like. Even when anything else seems to be stupid to claim.

Life is not what you make it, because you have so little power over your own life.
Ironically enough, others form what you become. Others form where you are, and how you feel.
And, sadly enough, so many young people have such an amazing view of life - life is what I make it.
Truth is, you’ll have very little to say.

I don’t know if I will laugh at this when I get older, but I have discovered that when you see the best in people, you get blinded. You have to be ready to see the best AND worst in people. You can’t ignore the bad sides, the luggage or even the slightest signals.

Truth is, most of the time, it’s too late. We are so positive as people. We always want to hope for the best, give the best, try our hardest.
Especially when it comes to love.

Love just seems so lovely. Truly, even after all the awful stories you’ve heard from friends and relatives... even after countless warnings. After countless advise. You still give yourself to someone because you think this significant other is, somehow, different.

And so it goes. It seems like you have all you ever wanted. It seems like this is it - this is the life, this is the love - your dream has come true, everything is the way it is supposed to be.
But little by little, reality catches up with you, and before you know it, you are staring into the eyes of a wholly different person. It is almost frightening, how little you know, and what is even more frightening is that you thought you actually knew.

Because after all... this was nothing close to blind love. You know each other’s good and bad sides, you know the pretty and the ugly, you know the habits and you know the stories.
Yet reality, in it’s purest form, still hides behind that imperfect but, yet so cherished person.

Truth is, we think that our stories are different. That finally, it will make sense. Finally, someone understands and receives in the way that you have longed for. You give everything you have, even what you do not have.

But nothing about us is different. Just as real as everything else. Disappointment, tears, misunderstanding, grudge, regret, sadness.

Every person that comes into our lives shapes us, creates us. That is, we are a creation of other people. Now meeting another creation, of other people, can form a clash, which happens in every single story.

What do you, then, do with it, when there is no way back? When the tables are set and the dress is bought, and life is ahead?

There is no regret, but reality certainly does frighten.