About hometown friends

Living abroad is meeting douzens of people, making a lot of friends, getting to know a couple of soulmates… And missing your hometown friends, because nobody is like them.

Something well know is that only strong relationships would survive long distances. I wasn’t expecting that to happen with frienship, though. Everybody leaving abroad has experienced this: All your friends and family throw big goodbye-parties, they give you goodbye-gifts, and goodbye-whishes. They tell you to write, and call and they assure you will be talking often. I don’t know how lucky have you been, but for me 75% of that wishes has been proven lies.

I think the best thing about going abroad in respect to the frienship relationships is that you wipe out useless ones. Leaving your hometown for months is an awesome opportunity to understand who is your real friend and who is not.

And I’m not saying that understanding isn’t hard. It is.

Some of the people who told me they would be there for me and aren’t weren’t a surprise. I expected that our fake frienship would end as soon as I wouldn’t be around, as it was only a convenience relationship in which they would use me whenever they needed to. I didn’t consider them my friends before and I’m not considering them my friends now. They aren’t, no matter how many good wishes they wrote me before leaving. Deep inside I hope the actual situation -in which they won’t talk to me or fake anymore that they are actually interested in me or my abroad life- will remain the same when I come back. I don’t have time for fake friends, I would rather use it for my real ones.

But some of the friends I thought real dissapeared also as soon as I left the airport. And it’s sad. And it hurts.

For instance, I have just read a note one of my friends gave me when I left. She wrote it soon after my breakup, when I told her I was afraid I would never feel anything again for anyone. She was the only one I shared that feeling with, such an intimate fear. In the note, she assured me that she would help me through, and that even when I were far  still would be there for a call or a text or a virtual hug.

She’s not.

She’s only one of too many examples. But I actually think this is the best that could happen to me, to know that they aren’t not my friends before it’s too late. Even though it hurts. Things that help you grow up always hurt. Thank you Erasmus for wiping out people who don’t care about me and leaving only the ones that love me. And thank you for the new friends!

Erasmus… What an experience.

Advertisements

Lost in translation – literally

First of all, sorry about my English. I have probably made many mistakes that I don’t even notice in the other posts in this blog, or maybe sentences that don’t make sense. I will try to be more careful.

That is of course easier on the written word, as you have time to think before typing, or changing the sentences right away. It is different when you are speaking and it is not your maternal language. Almost everyone has experienced it, trying to make a point and just not being able to reach it. Or saying something out loud just to realize how wrong it was.

But probably the worst part doesn’t lie in grammar or sentence constructions. The worst part is when they don’t understand you.

That is the kind of fear that my flatmate Marta has to deal with everyday. Her English is not as good as mine (and mine is far away from perfect), and she is shyer than me when it comes to talk. She doesn’t want to make mistakes, while I just don’t care and am happy with being  “fluently wrong”. But I think fluently wrong leads to right more often than “silently listening”.

What is certainly the worst part for me is when trying to express my opinions about a “deep” topic. Whenever I try to talk about feelings, it just doesn’t feel explained enough. And I repeat the same again and again but with different words, still not being satisfied with the result. I just can’t seem to find the right color to paint my thoughts with.

Since I started this blog I have been talking about loneliness in one way or another. This is the last kind of loneliness I wanted to adress. The loneliness of not being understanded – literally or not so literally.

I think that to fight against that loneliness implies being brave  -as always when it comes to live on your own in a foreign country. Brave enough to make mistakes, brave enough to not give up when it is harder to be understanded deeply.

I love that phrase, I think I should have it beared in mind more often in my life:

“Be brave enough to make mistakes”.

And make them.

Worth the risk – grieving

It’s been three months. It still hurts. It is still able to tear me apart. It’s still able to cut me in two, and make me shudder at my frayed edges.

But I won’t tell you.

Today I read something beautiful about love. And I couldn’t help thinking of you. And I couldn’t help crying. And I felt as empty and desesperate as the first day. The day when you told me you couldn’t make it anymore.

I had never understood what people say about love before. “Not fall in love because everyhing that falls gets broken”. Or the broken heart’s concept. I do now. I do understand now why people is so afraid to fall in love. To have a serious relationship. To give themselves to another person. I understand why you were so afraid, why you still are. Why you think you just can’t have a serious relationship, that they are not “your thing”.

It’s because it hurts. Because it cuts you in two, and makes you shudder at your frayed edges.

I have been in love. In some sense, I still am. And it has actually tear me apart, as everybody says it does. And I cannot see the light at the end of the tunel, only lightbulbs that dazzle me most of the times. But I am not afraid. Never have.

I do know that love is capable of destroying you. That getting close with a person is giving him the power to destroy you. To break you into pieces. I do have been cut to pieces. It kills you. It does.

But love also makes life worth living.

Real love, when you give yourself. Enterely, without barriers. When you actually let someone in. When you are loved for real, loved by a real life person (an human with its wonders and obscurities), that loves you, another real life person. And loves your darkest parts and makes them better. And you are better because you want to be better for the other person. Because you love every part of him. And you know him better than anyone, probably better than himself. And he knows you better than anyone and better than yourself.

When I grieve, people tell me I’m not the first person who has ever been through a break up. I think that if there was real love, all break-ups are to be grieved. It was my first love. It is my first love.It teared me apart. It made me new, and then it cut me in half.

And you know what, David? It was worth it. You know what world? I would do it all over again, all the love and all the pain. Because it was worth it.

Because love IS WORTH THE RISK.

And not letting anyone in is not.

About needing to attract the other sex’s attention

My boyfriend broke with me. It’s been three months now. I am on a Erasmus exchange in Sweden, so I  don’t really have time to feel lonely or to think about it. But sometimes, some afternoons, some Sundays, it all hits me: and I do feel lonely.

In that kind of moments I sometimes feel the urge to call somebody. Maybe the Swedish guy I am friends with, maybe the Spanish guy I liked earlier this semester… Always guys, and I think it is not only my thing, and that there is a reason why girls look for guy’s attention when they feel lonely.

Because it feels so good to have a guy’s attention.

Have you ever been aware of a guy’s crush on you? Or even more than one? It doesn’t matter if you don’t like him back, it will feel awesome when you think about it.

You feel valorated, you feel you are worth it, you kind of feel like suddenly you are not alone in the world, you now have a friend that is willing to be with you (even for the wrong reasons). And he LIKES you, of course he does because you are awesome.

And then, when you feel lonely during a party, you look for that particular guy’s eyes and tell him to stay a while because you want to talk -because you feel lonely.

I did it. And it wasn’t wrong. But it doesn’t feel right either.

I’ll try to explain.

As I said in the last post, I share a flat with two Spanish: Marta and Jaime. Well, when Jaime arrived it got suddenly  obvious than another Spanish girl, Claudia, wanted something with him. He played along, and they made out -and beyond. And then a couple of weeks later a Polish girl started to tease him, and he played back and they made out -and beyond. But Claudia didn’t like that (even though they haven’t had nothing -no compromise), she started to act crazy, shout at him for the silliest things, laugh like she didn’t care but saying mean stuff to him in a “joke” kind of way. Everybody knew she was dead serious, everyone but her that is now (a month later) still trying to pretend she doesn’t care.

Let me get this straight to you, she hasn’t fall for Jaime. Simply she does no longer have somebody’s permanent attention, and she’s desesperate to get it. She has been persuing guys in an harassing kind of way for two months now. My guy-friends ask me for help most of the times when she starts dancing “on” them in partys, or starts kissing-bitting them on the neck when she’s drunk (or playing drunk). They look at me wide-eyed, and quickly call me because “they have to tell me something important outside”, or hug me to separate her from they. Yes, it is that crazy.

(When I am talking to a friend that happens to be a guy during a party she usually comments “Silvia stop flirting with him”. You can imagine my laughter.)

Another example: Jaime’s second girl. Before him, that girl was having an affair-no-compromise with my Swedish friend, here J. He had a crush on her, but only admited it when he saw Jaime and that girl’s first kiss. Two feet away from J. When J stopped spending time with her after that, she started to call Jaime all the time, to invite him to his house, to do shopping with him. Jaime played along for a couple of weeks. Then he met his 3rd girl.

Two days ago, 2nd girl invited him again to “have a coffe” in her place. Jaime said no, and she tried with J, who said no also. She’s been very lonely the past week, you can tell by the way she acts. But she has already found a guy, so soon enough she will have somebody to be aware of her at all times.

Claudia is still trying to find one.

My point here, after this long long story (sorry about that), is:

– It does feel awesome to have a guy’s attention – you never feel lonely, you can go outside with him, or watch movies, or spend time not being alone.

-But for what prize? The Swedish guy J was heart-broken, and felt she was using him because she didn’t have any other friends -she was. The two girls are as alone as before, and their only target is to made out with another guy to fix that loneliness.

And I could have called my friend J the other night. And I know he is into me. And I know we would have kissed, or just talk, or just see a movie. And I really wanted to do it. But was it fair? Would I be using him?

And on top of it: Would my loneliness really dissapear?

No, it wouldn’t.

So this post is my way to compromise: I want to be a real friends with J, and friends don’t use each other, even if J thinks making out with me is fun and feelings-free. Even if I want his attention when I feel lonely. I want his attention to be given to me because he is my friend, no because we kiss, or no because I feel lonely.

Lonely Sundays are my choice, and I think they are much better than f***-friends. At least they have more meaning and less broken hearts.

About relationships

I am 20 years old. Too young, you probably may think, to know much about life. But I know a thing or two.

For example, I know when a relationship is doomed to fail. And I know how to disting between a healthy falling-in-love and an unhealthy one. I’m not talking only about me, I can tell when my friends are falling apart when they think they are falling in love. Most of the times.

Let me start. I live here in Sweden with two Spanish flatmates. Jaime y Marta.

Marta is having some issues and arguments with her 3 years-relationship-boyfriend since she moved to Sweden. Mostly, because of the distance. Because he doesn’t feel it is the same. Because he wonders about the future of them two. Because he won’t even share with here his doubts unless she asks him twenty times. It sounds familiar, right?

I didn’t know Marta before moving in, that’s why I asked her the other night about their relationship. How it was to be in a long-distance relation for three years (he’s not from Marta’s Spanish city, but another one). She says she gots it figured out, that she is just fine, and doesn’t worry much about the future. That she doesn’t have doubts at all.

Recent news are that her boyfriend won’t even talk to her anymore. He says he needs to think. He has turned out the plan to go to Amsterdam to meet there and fix things (and have an amazing trip meanwhile). Now they only talk by texts and they are plain “how are u?- fine”.

Intertia. Is there love in a relationship that goes by inertia? I’m not sure. What I am sure is that if you think you have all figured out, you are probably missing a lot of things. And I pray for Marta’s relationship to be fixed, and I hope this time they will find more reasons to be together than just because it is confortable. But I’m afraid that if you are staying for the inertia, once the inertia disappears there won’t be anything left.

To finish, let me make a picture of what I – a 20 years old single girl – have experienced love is. And I will do it with a quote from Delirium (Laurent Oliver):

Love, the deadliest of all deadly things: It kills you both when you have it and when you don’t. But that isn’t it, exactly. You are the condemner and the condemned. The executioner; the blade; the last-minute reprieve; the gasping breath and the rolling sky above you and the thank you, thank you, thank you, God. Love: It will kill you and save you, both.

And I’m not saying it is not comfortable. I’m saying is not taken from granted.

Where it all started

Well, I’ll try to explain it.

It all started in Poland. No, that’s a lie. It all started in Spain last summer. So, my boyfriend broke with me after a year and a half relationship. So suddenly I stopped having someone to share my opinions with. And I am a very reflective person. At least sometimes.

So I went on Erasmus to Sweden a month later. It’s been almost two months now. And a week ago, me and my friends went to Poland. And I met a guy from Poland’s ESN (Erasmus Social Network). And we started talking about how polish people greet each other (three kisses he gave to me), then talking about feminism and courtesy, then about studying and working on something you love, then about politics, then about religion… And so on. For about two hours and a half. Just he and I, first standing in the middle of the pub where Erasmus were having a beer, and afterwards sitting againts each other in our own table.

And it was a deep conversation, and it felt awesome. And for the last past three months I haven’t had a deep conversation like that with anyone. And our opinions in a lot of topics where almost the same. He was catholic, can you believe that? And he was proud to be so. Try to find that among my Erasmus friends.

Anyway, enough for the introduction. Let’s go to the reflective part of the post.

After that two hours and a half we kissed. And we are still talking.

So, when I came back to Sweden the next day, I run into a friend that could not go to Poland with the rest of us. And I told her with a smile about the Polish guy I met there. I told her we made out, but then I clarify that it was not a “drunk making out”, but a real conection after two hours of talking.

And she answered: “Two hours conversation? That’s too much for a kiss, poor guy”.

Holy crap. It still gets my nerves.

What kind of opinion people have about themselves? It is not the first time I hear something like that, but it is the most directed time somebody tell me. I’m trying to think like she does, and it is really sad.

I would say she thinks that in order for a guy to kiss her, he has to win her first. And the complexity of that depends on today’s mood or today’s quantity of alcohol in blood. I would say she thinks sex is a prize.

And worst of all, I am almost sure that she thinks her body is her only thing worth having. Not her opinions, not her company, not her conversation. Only her kisses and body.

It makes me sad.

But, at least, I know that way of thinking is wrong. And I will try to change it whenever I find it.

We are worth it in the inside, no matter what.