After having rolled in my self-pity for days now, I have to find another outlook on life. Starting by thanking one person, who has been my rock for the last two years.

Shortly after Peru, I have moved to a new city, about two hours away from home. Excited and a little bit scared I started my new life with two fellow roommates in an old apartment in the rather bad part in town. However, it wasn’t the neighborhood that caused me troubles – no – but my roommates sure did. I only had one person back then that could cheer me up: P. My boyfriend, love of my life, P. He would stay with me every night, because I couldn’t take it to be alone. He would have his phone always on vibrate, so that he’d hear me calling even during work hours. He made sure that I knew how much he loved me.

After six months I couldn’t take it any longer, and I fled. I would walk up to the apartment door, only to turn around after having touched the doorknob. So I hid at his place. For two entire months. I just couldn’t go back there. Then I moved. I thought that was it. Things were looking up, and starting to get better. P. and I bonded over long moonlight walks by the lake, fun roller coaster rides at the fair, delicious meals in the lovely restaurant up-town, barbecuing steaks on warm summer nights, and over moments filled with laughter and joy. I soon realized, he was the one. And that I never were to let him go.

August came and I not only started a new, demanding job, but I also got to move back home. P. and I hit rough patches, but it only made us stronger. In December my job, a temporary position, came to an end. We celebrated by taking a trip over New Years. It was one of the happiest vacations in my life. I have made memories, that I will keep forever, and that deserve to be thought about every so often.

But then January hit. I just hit this empty space. I didn’t have a reason to get up in the morning, I had nothing to do, no job, no college for another 2 months, nothing. Also I had to face the fact, that I’d soon have to move back to my college apartment. Same apartment, different people. So back to square one. But I had time. I had two months that I could spend with P. all to myself. I moved in with him for six whole weeks, eternity as it seemed. Followed by two more weeks on our dream vacation in the Caribbean. I was almost sad when I got on the plane, because it meant that our six weeks together were already over. But I still had two left. And these two weeks were the most wonderful weeks in my entire life. I have started laughing again, laughing to the fullest, I have smiled at strangers, talked to waiters, made new friends, I let life carry me again and making me happy.

That was three weeks ago. Now I am back in the clean sheets of my college apartment. P. has left for mandatory military service, so I barely get to see him. But this doesn’t change anything. He is and has always been my rock. My saving branch, when I am nearly drowning. My security blanket, when I need to snuggle up. My shoulder to cry on, when I just can’t keep it in anymore. He has supported me in any way that he can and he is showing me his love day by day, every second of my life. So no matter what the future brings, he will always be the love of my life. He is my rock, my baby, my king, my hero, and my very best friend.

And that is a pretty damn good thing to be happy about.


P., I thank you for what you give me day by day. You are my world.




Two years

It has been two years. Two fucking years. 728 days.

Reading my last posts seem like a distant dream. Words, sentences, paragraphs from a different world. Because I am not the person I used to be back then. As much drama as I seemed to have had, or trouble I seemed to be going through – I was goddamn happy. I was in a good place. Yes, my heart got broken, but I wasn’t broken back then.

Somehow, things have changed in my life, and they have changed me – but unfortunately not for the better but for the worse. I’m not dying, I’m not sick, I’m not poor. I’m a healthy, pretty, middle-classed girl, brown hair, blue eyes, decent clothes, cupboards full of food, nice apartment, Macbook and iPhone at hand. Still, I am unhappy.

I am so fucking damn unhappy and I do not know why. I have no clue. Not a hint. I simply do not know. But it is driving crazy. Because it is not fair. I don’t deserve to be unhappy. I have everything that I need, no I even have more.

I have the best boyfriend in the world, who I met right after I got back from Peru and who has stayed by my side ever since making me feel like the luckiest person on earth. I haveĀ  amazing parents, who try their very best and work hard and I know that they live to see me succeed. I have a sister, who loves me so incredibly much, and who needs me and makes me feel needed. And I have a brother, who is not afraid to speak up and call me on some bullshit, and even though we might disagree, I know he’ll always be honest. I have friends. People I can trust, rely on, and people, who will be here for me when I need them. So as you see I have no right, not even the slightest, tiniest little bit, to be so unhappy.

I may have made a lot of New Years resolutions, mostly ones that I’ve held till around January 3rd, but there is one resolution that I have regarding life. I promised myself, no matter what, I want to be happy.

So, having no other clue on how to figure this out, I turned to my good old friend. My computer keyboard. Word by word, letter by letter I am going to figure this out. I am going to make my way back. Back into that fucking spot of sunshine, when you hear the birds chirping, and the people smiling, and when you just start smiling for no reason. That’s where I wanna get. And I will. I will be happy again.

Pathetic Fallacy – Clouds over my Head

The guy who taught me this word – I once thought he was the one. He was the muse to my lines turning them into what I thought was meaningful. He was the inspiration for my rhymes and the rhythm of my beat. He was a frog. Just like so many other princes that seemed to have gone through a reverse metamorphosis. And then they always say that frogs love the rain. Well at least the weather matches up with my mood. The cloudy and vacuous sky that has been hanging over my head and damping my non-existing smile did not only bring physical sogginess on the streets but also metaphorical rain in my head. And not even chocolate managed to be strong enough to build myself an umbrella. The only thing I built with it, is a couple extra pounds on the scale – but that’s a whole other story.

This story namely, is about the spring that I have wished to come a couple weeks ago since my life seemed so boring. And about that same spring which I now wish back to where it came from, because it is giving me sleepless nights and a severe headache. But let’s start at the beginning.

After the exciting nights spent with L., I felt absolutely no excitement when I packed up my backpack for camp. The forest was calling – or the scouts camping in it, to be precise. But against all prejudgements, I have been carried away into the world nightly campfires and the sounds of our voices matching up with the chords of the guitar and the sizzling of the flames, warming not only my hands but also my heart. I know it’s sounds cheesy but it was beautiful. I have not seen that many stars at once on a nightly sky in a while. The lack of pollution did not only clear off the sky, but my head as well. Things were so easy. It just all worked out. Not having known anyone prior to departure, I was worried about a billion things – turns out no worries were needed. Because I was accepted and even more, I was liked within peers and patrons. I did not want the week to end – we all didn’t, in only a week we developed family feelings for each other – although I was glad to have my own bathroom back.

Now, let’s speak about the more exciting parts: Not only the spring, which I wished for arrived. There were other springy feelings around as well. And while I had no trouble to give the fluff to the six-teen-year old, who seemed to grab my hands and massage them whenever they were within half a mile distance, I struggled when the good-looking, sexy, and buff T. suddenly decided to give me his attention. No. It was not the romantic kind of attention. But I didn’t mind. Being single since for almost 9 months, makes a woman develop needs – or more – desires. It was a warm and funny night – including the consumption of liquors which did certainly not help my better judgement to decide against – the sauna was not the only thing making the evening hot… Nevertheless, fate decided to end before the finish – making T. promise me to terminate another night which left me, the hopeless romantic, in unrealistic expectations.

Having returned to my hometown, things got weird. We did hook up a second time, but last night, all their was, was the awkward avoidance of eye contact, which made us have even more awkward eye contact after all. I can’t help it, I still think he’s insanely hot, but he made clear that he does not want anything to do with me anymore. And there are the clouds building up over my head…

Because it seems like princes cannot be found in hot sauna nights or rhythmic muses – the search will continue. And even though I still think about L. a lot, I am worried what my questionless acceptance of T. means? Was it the sixpack that made me forget L.’s personality? That would make me a pretty bad person. Or is it the natural attraction to someone who I have just met at the wrong time?

Well time will show.