the last summer (instagram version)

And once again, time has passed way too fast, and I am going to leave out clichéd metaphors regarding this because, let’s be honest, I haven’t been feeling too metaphorical or dreamy lately (for a change), and this is going to be quiet a long post. So, if you’re too lazy to read it and just want to look at the pictures, I forgive you in advance. (I will post camera pictures soon)

Now, this is where I get very personal.

I am a firm believer that in life the whole ‘learning process’ never ends and it’s very evident to oneself specially when big events happen, such as a big trip. I tend to talk about my moments of realization involving life and others, but this time I actually learned some things about myself, and it’s such a bittersweet thing. I did not “find” myself, no, I’ve always known myself, and I like to think that life is about creating yourself more than finding yourself, like someone great once said. But I did get to see and do things that underlined what apparently I’ve always known, but never took notice of and which pretty much summarizes the events of my summer: I could happily be a nomad, being cool is not cool, ‘mingling’ can be fun but it is definitely not for me (I never forget, and I always regret), and that it takes courage to be a nobody.

No, but really, getting really personal: it seems like a joke that almost three years ago I arrived to New York, all brand new and oblivious like a newborn, and now I’m a senior in college, and it’s hard to grasp the reality of the fact that after today, it’s all going nonstop…it just slips from my mind, escapes my fingers. I had so many chances to breathe in my short life, and I never really enjoyed them. I’m still trying to figure out if I regret it.

Either way, this is how my last summer ever unfolded… (I recommend listening to this playlist while reading, because I'm cheesy enough to believe that every life has a soundtrack).

June was a pretty uneventful month, except for maybe my golden birthday (I turned 22 on June 22^nd). It is a strange age to be; I’m still finding it hard to accept. June came with a lot of hot days, a new haircut, a new YouTube Channel (Souvenirs From a Girl), welcome back hugs from my friends, and Mongo, my love. I did a lot of nothing, and it felt good.

In July, I felt eighteen. Two friends and I hopped on a plane to London town, my most favorite city, and I felt like at home once we touched the ground. I strangely had a very good sense of direction, always knew which way to turn, like I had lived there all along. We spent three days being tourists and on the fourth morning we met with our tour to start our adventure, then drove off to Paris in a bus full of strangers that would eventually become our temporary family.

Paris…

I’m still trying to make myself believe a place like that exists. There’s just something about it. It’s like the manic pixie dream girl of the world, the beautiful and alluring woman in a novel that the miserable main character falls in love with, all perfect and heartbreaking.

As we continued our trip I promised myself to do whatever I wanted for the first time in my life. So I started weaving my “fuck it” imaginary souvenir. Thread after thread, I acted like a teenager, and I felt liberated. I partied, I did reckless stuff…for some strange reason these things empower you. I had never felt invincible and beautiful before, until July. But it turns out that I am a very bad 22-year-old teenage rebel, and thus, now I am back to little old, boring me.

We visited so many places it would take me a novel to describe all I saw and experienced in each and every one of them. Country-wise we went to England, France, Spain, Italy, Switzerland, Hungary, Austria, Slovakia, Czech Republic, Germany and the Netherlands. One of the most memorable moments was driving into the Swiss Alps while Fleet Foxes played in the background; life felt like a movie.

I wanted to stay on the road forever, never come back.

This trip made me realize that my life has been too much about me, and now I want too much about others and everything else but me.

I have promised myself to live in Paris & Berlin one day.

It feels like the things I worried about when I was 18 are the things I should be worried about now, and instead I am worrying about things I should have been worrying about when I was 18.

I graduate in May.

I have to admit, I am very scared. 

How do you stop yourself from growing up?

I “took” on smoking; bought my first pack of cigarettes, my very own pack…another thread to the “fuck it” souvenir I weaved the whole summer. I gave about 80% away.

A few words from my father’s mouth were enough to bring me back to happy and strong: actions over reaction, do my best, and enjoy the ride. So I took action, and now opportunities seem to be coming my way. My only fear is that New York may be slipping from my fingers.

But despite all my teenage rebel antics, lots of crying and nerves, I was able to see some amazing things this summer, which led to a lot of sighing and looking and discovering while a lot of Bon Iver, Local Natives and Alt-J played in the background. And it has been by far the most amazing last summer of my life.

So, on my last Sunday home I decided to thread in the last little thread to my “fuck it” imaginary souvenir.  I put on my red clog slippers with “Holland” written in bright yellow letters, and went down to the balcony just above the pool, a pack of cigarettes in my pocket, and some matches. I looked at the view in front of me, a view I saw everyday for 12 years of my life and never took notice of, just as one would ignore a trivial thing such as breathing but then search for desperately once it’s taken away from us. And it sort of felt like the last time, in a way. 

I lit up the last cigarette in the pack and took several drags while listening to “Under Your Spell” by Desire, and it felt all dream-like. Like I was in some 80s movie about crazy teens that wore cool outfits and smoked and felt cool, until I stared at it and realized I probably looked ridiculous. I, the good girl, the good student and daughter, smoking, trying to fit in a mold I was never meant to fit in. So, I just watched the cigarette die out, stepped on it just to make sure any evidence the moment ever existing was gone, and went back inside to eat chocolate Philadelphia while my mom watched Say Yes To The Dress.