When I feel like I’m exploding because of all the emotions within me and I just want to forget, I used to have three options:
- physical pain
But times have changed. I’ve become oh-so mature and choose the fourth option, photography. In the fading daylight I take my self-portrait in the forest. A nude, the first time I’m doing this without company. I’m horribly disorganized, my remote is at home so I have ten seconds to get from the camera to my spot, thorns scratching my bare legs.
I’m only a couple of meters beside a path. A jogger passes by without noticing me, then parents with their loud child. However, all good things come in threes. A dad passes by with his little son. I’m squatting behind a bush, wrapped in my big scarf, but they spot my tripod and jacket and slow down, wondering aloud what could be hidden there. I urge them to move on in my mind, but they’ve almost come to a halt, still staring in my direction.
“Excuse me, could you please walk on?”, I ask behind my bush. The dad looks surprised, laughs and moves on with his son. Phew. He probably thought that I was peeing (with the camera aimed at me?!), but whatever :D
My little adventure distracts me. When I return at nightfall, I’m relaxed, the emotions are out. I’m so glad I didn’t have to turn to an unhealthy outlet.
But I rejoiced too quickly. We’re having our weekly dinner party again. Cooking is as fun as always. We improvise a bit, but it ends up delish anyways, and my heart swells when I look at the lovely people gathered here, in my beloved and sacred new home.
I make one of my favourite drinks, daiquiri, surprised it’s not known here since it’s very common in Uruguay, where I got to know it. We don’t have strawberries so I improvise and use frozen cherries and an overripe mango. Everyone loves it and I’m glad; it’s a bittersweet reminder of a dear friend in Uruguay.
After attending a party organized by the informatics students’ association and peeking into a rather lame club, we end up in my favourite club again. No reggaeton tonight, though.
My mood switches again and again, fluctuating between two extremes, unburdened happiness and attention-craving loneliness. It’s been bothering me all day, I guess that alcohol makes us even more thirsty for love. I can’t imagine how my involuntary single friends must feel: to wish there was someone to share everything with, giving and receiving love and attention … but being alone, the loneliness turning black and all-consuming at times.
Yes, there is a precious someone on Earth who’s giving me everything I want and need, but he’s not here, so technically I’m alone, in a relationship without getting the perks of it. I long for attention, but I suppress the desire. My heart is promised to someone.
Two acquaintances I know from last Saturday are with us, dancingcuddlingholdinghands, and I can’t help but dig my fingernails into my arms, trying to get rid of my overwhelming emotions.
Jealousy, envy? I’m aware of my face switching from laughter to tension every other minute and I just want to forget about everything. I guess I was running away from some issues – but what are you supposed to do when faced with things that don’t have a solution – but simply wait?
Dance like nobody is watching. That’s what I do, half faking, trying to look like the happiest and most untroubled version of myself. I can almost convince myself, maybe the people around me can be fooled, too.
We’re back at 3.30am. I’m supposed to be in uni at 8.30am. Robin and I talk in the living room till 5am and I still don’t dare to ask really intimate questions, afraid it’s too early. But, even though we’re so tired we’re about to fall asleep, we eat brownies and talk about friendships and other life related things. My emotions finally settle down. I’m so glad he’s abstained from his much-needed sleep in order to talk to me. These frank one-to-one conversations – or, more generally, friendships – are a wonderful cure to ailments of the heart.
Before going to bed, I look into the mirror. My legs bear the marks of the thorns; ironically, my arms end up having similar marks from my nails. I failed myself this time, but I promise myself that I’ll get better at dealing with this.