“Sometimes you’re 23 and standing in the kitchen of your house making breakfast and brewing coffee and listening to music that for some reason is really getting to your heart. You’re just standing there thinking about going to work and picking up your dry cleaning. And also more exciting things like books you’re reading and trips you plan on taking and relationships that are springing into existence. Or fading from your memory, which is far less exciting. And suddenly you just don’t feel at home in your skin or in your house and you just want home but “Mom’s” probably wouldn’t feel like home anymore either. There used to be the comfort of a number in your phone and ears that listened everyday and arms that were never for anyone else. But just to calm you down when you started feeling trapped in a five-minute period where nostalgia is too much and thoughts of this person you are feel foreign. When you realize that you’ll never be this young again but this is the first time you’ve ever been this old. When you can’t remember how you got from sixteen to here and all the same feel like sixteen is just as much of a stranger to you now. The song is over. The coffee’s done. You’re going to breathe in and out. You’re going to be fine in about five minutes.”
“You must do everything you can to get what you want and need, to find “that type of love.” It’s there for you…. I do know that we are here, all of us — beasts and monsters and beauties and wallflowers alike — to do the best we can. And every last one of us can do better than give up…. You’re going to have to be brave. You’re going to have to walk into the darkest woods without a stick.. You will be likewise transformed, the same as love transforms us all. But you have to be fearless enough to let it transform you… put your best self out there with as much transparence and sincerity and humor as possible….Walk without a stick into the darkest woods. Believe that the fairy tale is true..” —Dear Sugar
It was not my home.
It was not yours.
The city was a new playground for us — a fresh canvas upon which we could paint our own experiences without the traces of the past muddling our present.
We were unknown to each other. Unknown to the city. Unknown to the future.
We made every inch of that city our own. We ran to catch subways and declared the corner of the main station our home-base. We’d meet for lunch and just wish for time to stand still. We’d rush and hope that the obligations of life would just let us be. If only for a minute. If only for one more kiss.
We knew each minute passing was working against us. Our time together was finite. Finite and rarely spoken of.
We dodged that truth like we dodged the traffic in the main square.
It was too painful a truth.
As with all truths, they eventually demand to make themselves known.
They come barreling at your like a freight train. Insistent to remind you that it was all too good to be true — nothing this good has ever lasted for you. Why should it now?
Time and truth, they grabbed our things and kicked us out of our new city and we gave in. We were too weak to fight. Too heartsick to refute.
In a week you will be gone. And not long after I will be, too. — And we do not know when fate will allow us to cross paths again. (I pray to God every night that it will be soon.)
But as I told you, as we held each other before saying goodbye;
We’ll always have Munich.
which we may not always call home,
but it will forever be ours.
and you tried to change didn’t you?
closed your mouth more
tried to be softer
less volatile, less awake
but even when sleeping you could feel
him travelling away from you in his dreams
so what did you want to do love
split his head open?
you can’t make homes out of human beings
someone should have already told you that
and if he wants to leave
then let him leave
you are terrifying
and strange and beautiful
something not everyone knows how to love.”
Last night I prayed for signs, affirmations, help.
Today I discovered the words of Warsan Shire.
The power of prayer. The power of asking.
“Such is the nature of an expatriate life. Stripped of romance, perhaps that’s what being an expat is all about: a sense of not wholly belonging. […] The insider-outsider dichotomy gives life a degree of tension. Not of a needling, negative variety but rather a keep-on-your-toes sort of tension that can plunge or peak with sudden rushes of love or anger. Learning to recognise and interpret cultural behaviour is a vital step forward for expats anywhere, but it doesn’t mean that you grow to appreciate all the differences.” ― Sarah Turnbull