Relationships are hard. When you truly love someone, you'd do anything in your power to make them happy. I recently moved out of my parents home and into a flat on my own in the big city. Don't get me wrong, I love it here. I can do what I want, whenever I want. I'm surrounded by my friends and my boyfriend works just around the corner so I cna see him all the time.
I know I'm going to sound like a whiney bitch who's never happy but I've noticed that the high I'd been riding on all of summer is beginning to plummet and I can feel myself sinking into the all too familiar slump of emptiness. Now, before I say anything more, there are a few things I need to point out.
1. I'm in a happy, loving relationship. The way I feel about him has not changed in the slightest. He still makes me unbelievably happy and I would do anything for him.
2. I am in no way self-diagnosing myself with depression or anything like that. I'm happy. Just a little sad-happy, if you understand.
I've been in Australia for 14 days now. I really want to be full of wanderlust but I just seem to have come to the conclusion that I'm too happy at home to go off exploring new countries. Don't get me wrong , nothing fascinates me more than learning about new cultures but I just don't want to be anywhere but home right now. I miss the comfort of my own bed and the arms of my boy. I'm not ungrateful to my mum for flying me to the other side of the world to see her and explore new places and see new things. I love it here. Brisbane's a beautiful city full of exciting people and wonderful places. But being here makes me a little sad. Maybe more than a little actually. I wish I could share this experience with the man I love. A little piece of me feels like it's missing and I can't truly enjoy all the wonderful opportunities I'm being given here.
[Warning: this ones about to get real soppy and gross and omg please don't read it I'm disgusting.]So let me explain something. First off, it's 3.15am so I can't be held responsible for the things that come out of my mouth. It's the witching hour and this is when all my worst word babies form. I doubt this is worth anyone's time to read and I really feel like I'll regret this in the morning and never want anyone to see the ridiculous things that make their way out of my brain at this hour but fuck it.(I'm writing this to a specific person. Everyone else is welcome to jump on the band wagon and think I'm mental but hey ho)I fall in love with you a little bit more every day. I grew up watching movies where the prince would sweep the girl off her feet and she'd be so madly and deeply in love with him and they'd live happily ever after forever. Not every boy is a prince and not every boy is capable of sweeping girls off their feet. Me especially, I ain't light. Love isn't perfect. It's like water. It ebbs and flows. But let me tell you something I'm learning. Not every second of a relationship is perfect but when the relationship is good, the great moments outshine the nagging and the awkward parts where you bump teeth or make some horrendous noise. When I think about my relationship, I think of all the good things he does. They way he makes me feel special and treats me like his princess. I don't care about the little arguments. Most of the time, I can't even remember what they're about. I'm not perfect and my relationship isn't perfect. But my man is perfect for me and in the end, that's all that really matters.
x
I know I'm going to sound like a whiney bitch who's never happy but I've noticed that the high I'd been riding on all of summer is beginning to plummet and I can feel myself sinking into the all too familiar slump of emptiness. Now, before I say anything more, there are a few things I need to point out.
1. I'm in a happy, loving relationship. The way I feel about him has not changed in the slightest. He still makes me unbelievably happy and I would do anything for him.
2. I am in no way self-diagnosing myself with depression or anything like that. I'm happy. Just a little sad-happy, if you understand.
I've been in Australia for 14 days now. I really want to be full of wanderlust but I just seem to have come to the conclusion that I'm too happy at home to go off exploring new countries. Don't get me wrong , nothing fascinates me more than learning about new cultures but I just don't want to be anywhere but home right now. I miss the comfort of my own bed and the arms of my boy. I'm not ungrateful to my mum for flying me to the other side of the world to see her and explore new places and see new things. I love it here. Brisbane's a beautiful city full of exciting people and wonderful places. But being here makes me a little sad. Maybe more than a little actually. I wish I could share this experience with the man I love. A little piece of me feels like it's missing and I can't truly enjoy all the wonderful opportunities I'm being given here.
[Warning: this ones about to get real soppy and gross and omg please don't read it I'm disgusting.]So let me explain something. First off, it's 3.15am so I can't be held responsible for the things that come out of my mouth. It's the witching hour and this is when all my worst word babies form. I doubt this is worth anyone's time to read and I really feel like I'll regret this in the morning and never want anyone to see the ridiculous things that make their way out of my brain at this hour but fuck it.(I'm writing this to a specific person. Everyone else is welcome to jump on the band wagon and think I'm mental but hey ho)I fall in love with you a little bit more every day. I grew up watching movies where the prince would sweep the girl off her feet and she'd be so madly and deeply in love with him and they'd live happily ever after forever. Not every boy is a prince and not every boy is capable of sweeping girls off their feet. Me especially, I ain't light. Love isn't perfect. It's like water. It ebbs and flows. But let me tell you something I'm learning. Not every second of a relationship is perfect but when the relationship is good, the great moments outshine the nagging and the awkward parts where you bump teeth or make some horrendous noise. When I think about my relationship, I think of all the good things he does. They way he makes me feel special and treats me like his princess. I don't care about the little arguments. Most of the time, I can't even remember what they're about. I'm not perfect and my relationship isn't perfect. But my man is perfect for me and in the end, that's all that really matters.
x
Being in a familiar place can be comforting. Being alone in
a familiar place can be a lot less comforting. I’ve been here countless times
in my life. This has been our home in the sun since before I can remember. I’ve
grown up surrounded by the locals. I know my way around the broad,
tourist-laden streets. I know the secrets of the village, the local traditions
and the native families that live around me. However, I’m still lonely. I’ve
discovered a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘love hurts’. I’m not heartbroken.
Quite the opposite. I’ve never been so utterly enveloped in affection for
another being. When we’re together, his needs are always my first priority. I
don’t cringe at the chronically stereotypical gender roles that we adopt. I’m
more than happy to cook and clean and do his washing as he lies on the sofa
with a beer watching sports. If I were to tell this to myself a year ago, I’m
sure I wouldn’t believe it. I’m an independent person. I rarely rely on the
kindness of others to guide me through life. I make my own luck, working hard
to get what I want without the charity of others where possible.
Bringing him to my sanctuary, the place I feel safe and
happy and at peace was a big risk. We’d never spend more than a day or two
together and I knew that ten days alone in a foreign country my stretch our
relationship. My mother had warned me that ‘you don’t really know someone until
you go on holiday with them’ and I was a little dubious that the passion that
bubbled between us would soon turn sour and we’d resent each other on day
three.
I don’t like talking about my relationship in depth on here
in fear of the future. I worry that if we do decide to go our separate ways,
either in friendship or on less pleasant terms, these thoughts may serve as a
painful reminder of what I had. What I lost. However, this is an exception. I
suppose, as an aspiring writer, I see profound emotions as deeply
inspirational. I doubt (and hope) I will ever feel the intense adrenaline rush
of being held at gunpoint or the heart wrenching sorrow of the loss of a child.
But I’ve gained a little insight into the fervent rush of affection for
another. I hope that, in the future when
I become a world-famous writer, that I can use the way I feel right now to try
and put in to words the way a woman feels when her husband goes off to battle.
Or when a girl sees the boy she dreamt of standing on the opposite train
platform from her, waving solemnly as he disappears from her.
This place that I call home, the one I dream of curled up in
my blankets on stormy winter nights has turned into what I can only describe as
a birdcage. When two love birds are together in that cage, they sing joyfully
all day, grooming each other and relishing in each other’s company. Now my
fellow love-bird is gone, and I won’t see him for almost a month, all I can do
is stick my little beak through the bars of this gorgeous, suntrap and listen
out for the sweet birdsong that tweets on so far away from me now.
