The future is such a slippery concept. I reckon that’s what makes life interesting. However, I’m tired of thinking only about the future. I feel like for the past three years, ever since I graduated high school, I haven’t been able to focus solely on the present, and that because I’ve been having to worry about the future so much, I haven’t enjoyed the present as much as I should have.
Ive had my experiences, my adventures, my memories. And if I were to write down a chronicle of my life for the past three years, with all its ups and downs, it actually looks fairly enviable. A stint in switzerland with a swiss boyfriend, living on my own in France for two years with a boyfriend for 3/4 of that time, romantic trips to Paris, epic trip to Rome, Istanbul and Athens, flying to Norway, to the US, visiting friends in Miami, celebrating my birthdays in France and Italy, summer vacations in Nicaragua. I’ve fallen in love, I’ve broken up. I’ve had flings and one night stands and lovers and friends, soulmates and acquaintances, come and go. I’ve partied in European capitals, I’ve kissed a lover under the Eiffel Tower, I’ve ridden on the back of a lover’s motorcycle through the streets of switzerland. Tasted fine foods and drank expensive wines, and I’ve spent nights in the cheapest hostels. I’ve been surrounded by friends…and I’ve spent countless nights crying myself to sleep, alone, in France. I’ve made love, I’ve had my heart broken, and I’ve broken hearts. I’ve cheated and been cheated on. Lied and been lied to. And every step of the way, I’ve been losing myself and who I am.
There is so much that hasn’t been told, and if it has, it’s been told in pieces, it’s been fragmented, and after some time, it’s been forgetten, left aside, and the feelings have been mitigated. No matter how hard I try to hold on, it’s impossible. Happiness is such a fleeting feeling for me. I wish I knew how to hold on to it for longer, how to remember more.
I’ve been nostalgic for switzerland lately. The nights I spent in Lausanne had such a deep impact on who I am today that I suspect I still don’t know the full depth of it, I still haven’t even seen the bottom. Jaded, is the word I can think of that describes it the best. Jaded about love, about human generosity and character, jaded about life.
For weeks at a time, I spent my nights chain smoking on the windowsill of a dorm room, smiling at how great life was, with Lac Leman, the “geneva” lake, sparkling below me in the bright moonlight, the crisp autumn air blowing through my hair three stories up, knowing that I was headed for greatness and that I had the best boyfriend I could have dreamt of by my side. I was on top of the world. Back then, not only did I not know what failure was, I was sure I wasn’t even capable of it. I had never even so much as had a stumble in my life; I was invincible. The past two years have taught me what failure is. They have taught me that I am not invincible, that I am not untouchable. They have taught me what failure feels like. What I haven’t learned yet is how to come to terms with it and more importantly, how to rise above it and fix what I have done wrong.
Now almost every day it just feels like my world has crashed down around me. I don’t know what I want anymore, and I used to be so sure. I don’t know what I’m capable of, and what I’m not. I don’t know how to fix what I’ve broken, how to get myself out of this mess, and mostly, I’m deathly scared of having to live with the consequences. Because every decision I make right now, will stretch far into a future that, once bright and shining, is now nothing short of daunting and fearsome.
