Don't know what I was looking for when I went home. I found me alone. And sometimes I need someone to say: "You'll be alright. What's on your mind?"
Yellowcard
I stopped listening to Joshua Radin, I've maybe shed a tear on the train home. But it was hard to be sad and depressed. Firstly, there was an annoyed couple who sat across from us. And secondly, us - I was with a good friend. When you leave with someone it isn't as terrible as when you leave alone. And I knew none of my German friends would stay there, we were the last to leave. I knew noone would come to the "Gare de l'est" the next time I will arrive there. That it would be completely different, even if it wasn't exactly a goodbye forever.
But in some ways it was. It was a goodbye to Paris, as my city. As in "Bitch, please. I'm not a tourist - I live here", the pride in my voice when I vocalized this sentence.
My workplace is no longer my workplace. It is "the place where I used to work" and, "au pire" (=for the worst) my room is no longer my room. It is the room of someone else, some new girl who'd come to live there the next year. It is not more than "the room I used to live in" now.
Maybe now, as I'm reflecting about all, the goodbye, maybe now is my time to cry over it. To realize that it's really over. That I can never go back.
Yes, I know that this is not the apocalypse it's just the end of a limited time period. I was conscious about that fact before the very beginning.
Yes, maybe I'm dramatizing and yes, I look forward to my studies and to my time as a student of "Medienkulturwissenschaften" (yeah, that word is a thing) and politics.
Yes, I know the best is yet to come. Or at least I hope for it.
But what if this was the best time? Like in some Green Day lyrics: "I hope you had the time of your life". For me, "The Time of Your Life" is an abstract thing. Maybe the time of your life is everytime. Every moment. The Now. You can make any time the time of your life. I'm looking into the future and I'm thankful that I can do this. That I am who I am. Born where I was born. Raised like I was raised. Hurt like I was hurt. Struck by love like I was struck so many times. Because all that made me me.
Now I'm back. But so what? It was an awesome time, I made awesome friends, I learned a lot about life, I got to know a city "vraiment", I fell in love, I found my own lines and borders, I learned a lot about myself, too. But I don't know all. Perhaps it's good to be obliged move on, so I can change, learn more and experience more.
Nostalgy is all well and good. I can't help to fall into it from time to time. But I don't dive into it, don't bathe my soul in it, don't let the shiny memories be the ideal of today's reality. I'm not that kind of person anymore. I have changed.
I'm back. I realize how few my real friends are. While my brothers are celebrating a on-going-two-weeks-party because my parents are out on holiday, I sit there, often alone, mostly with my best friend as my only companion, seldom with 4 other friends from whom two of them are my female cousins (#foreveralone). But I don't really care. I don't need that superficial kind of friendship. I take it if it's there but there are more important thing to focus on. More important people.
I'm back. And I'm cool with it.
