I have created this post for my first love story and, of course, my first tragic break-up. I thought that would happen in a few months, when I’ll be in London studying at a fancy uni, having fancy friends and drinking fancy milkshakes at Starbucks every morning. but life has its way to mess up plans and people. after one blissful month of an open relationship, after a day that changed everything, here I am writing for a cause that I haven’t even had the chance to understand. I was happy and now I’m not. I feel… like crying constantly. hurt. frustrated. angry. upset. insulted. jealous. paranoid. generally, a lot of things I’m not usually experiencing. so I guess that was it - my first love story. but you know what? I’m not regretting a single thing. miserable as I am, if time were to turn back, I would do everything exactly the same. pick the same guy, set the same rules, obliviously letting myself feel, followed by accepting his confession and, of course, his decision. I’m actually glad he happened.
I will allow myself to mope the rest of the weekend. junk food, no showering and I’ll only watch romantic crap. for now I’m just thankful I don’t have to build myself from scratch.