Today I stumbled upon some old things I'd written after returning from my first move to Barcelona. I hadn't read any of these things in so long, but upon reading them I experienced such intense nostalgia for that first move to Europe. I had never been overseas. I was shy and scared, then suddenly freakishly independent. I felt like my feet had wings, and I was always wandering, always exploring, wide-eyed and curious... Everything was new and I had no expectations,I admittedly expected to recapture those emotions through this second move to Europe. Don't get me wrong, I am loving this experience and my life in Paris, but things are very different. After reading my old stories/notes/thoughts from my first "life" in Barcelona, I sort of came to the conclusion that I have to let go of my expectations and go back to being clueless!
Ok, so I'm being brave and posting some excerpts of what I wrote back in the day. I may end up deleting them, as this is somewhat uncomfortable for me to do. Here goes... (oh and I'm throwing in some old pics from Spain):
I walked to your hotel.
It was hard for me not to run,
I felt like my feet were gliding over the ground.
You seemed so much smaller than I remembered you,
Your hair was darker, longer.
I cried, and you said you were tired.
I watched you unpack,
I lay on your bed and answered your questions.
You brought me things that I no longer liked.
You stroked my hair,
Made fun of my gloves,
Said you were tired.
We lost each other.
That was the loneliest I had felt in a long time.
You hugged me and it felt so cold.
I took you to all of my favorite places,
Told you everything I knew.
You told me things that I didn’t care to hear.
I slept in your bed,
But wanted to be in my own.
I wanted to be on my own.
I used to cry a lot. Not because I was sad, but because I was in some phase in which I felt everything really deeply and life seemed so intensely beautiful.
Anyway, a few months ago I was thinking that I could only feel so connected when I was away from everyone and everything that I know.
But I don’t believe that anymore, not completely at least.
It would all end soon, and I would be loved and I would be liked and then I would fade away. He would fade away, the city would fade away, his cigarette smoke would evaporate, the sensation of his hand on my hip would bristle then dissolve, and his whisper would vibrate in my ear then slip into my memory.
P.S. If anyone can tell me how to get Flickr to not CUT OFF THE RIGHT EDGES OF MY PHOTOS, I'd really appreciate it because it's driving me nuts! xo