Love in Barcelona

My first love was quite dramatic, and it continued in that way. There was something wrong with my inner compass, and I thought I didn’t deserve any better then guys treating me like I’m nothing. Every love story starts good, where I’m just captured by love and letting myself go in whatever direction it takes me, even if it’s down to the bottom. My first love made me sacrifice not just myself but also my sanity. I was so determined in making it work that I forgot to see myself around and getting distance from everything. That’s why I shortly after move to Barcelona, I wanted distance from everything, I wanted to be anonymous in a big city, with no one to hold on to. I wanted to stand on my own. And I did but again love was showing me the way, right back to the bottom again where I was crying and being desperate. However, after having my first relationship I learned to be patient, maybe a little bit too much patient because I always found an excuse for my love’s behaviour. The first love was not simple, and this were not to be either, as if love is ever simple, if you don’t meet any obstacles you are probably doing something wrong, that’s what I think. You need discussions to get forward, but there should also be a balance. I was missing this balance, we were missing this balance.

After my first love, and getting out of that relationship I was just staying single and having fun just as I’ve did since I was introduced to the partylife at 13. This said I had my fun at early age, when I was 20 I was more than ready to have something serious, I thought. I had a go with this boy, a artist that had only himself in mind and that I had to adapt myself to rather than us adapting to each other. I was quite lost on my way, mostly because we became one. This boy was from Mexico so we had our differences so to say. I didn’t make it easy, falling in love with someone from a completely different culture. I fell in love not just with him, but his culture and way of being. Living by the day has always captured me, and in Barcelona it was easy. In Sweden it’s impossible. So when I decided move back to Sweden and keep going on my own direction our differences were even more obvious.

To be continued...