talihina sky

I am supposed to be Barcelona this week.

J came and stayed a few weeks ago, as Blond Monkey was busy getting his portfolio together and I tried to play Good Hostess while simultaneously hiding my murderously violent tendencies at work.

I failed miserably.

But that is not to say that we didn’t get some good’ol times rollin’ and dancin’ (or as much as my QUARTER OF A CENTURY OLD’S Newly Acquired Rubbish Need For An 8 Hours Night Sleep To Function Comprehensibly allowed). And it was delightful to be with J again, someone who knew me before. Someone I can run to, and would understand where I came from. Reminding me who I am by showing me how I’ve changed, without having to say anything... It was the closest piece of home I’ve tasted since I’ve been here and it filled a hunger that went unsatiated for far too long.

We ended up being completely annoyed with one another, obviously (ta! darl!), but his is a friendship that brings love & hate as much & as easily as family does, I think. And it was also the first time a close part of my life met a 'boyfriend'. I don’t remember much, on the account that I was massively drunk (it involved a fallen pint of cider, I believe), but I think it went well as both parties spent the remaining days ganging up on me. Bitches.

After I saw my best friend off after a week long emotional ride, Blond Monkey also had to go away for a few days. I relished at the idea of having the flat to myself but suddenly, creepily and unexpectedly, it felt bare. Although I knew he would soon come back, in a few days, just wait, you silly girl, I missed him oh so terribly....

Silly girl...
Just a few days...
Just you wait….








I am supposed to be in Barcelona this week. But I am not.

Because, although having bought the tickets months beforehand with the idea that you might be able to get away together, life has this tendency to throw random insignificant things at you, carelessly, so as he suddenly can’t. Because, even if a part of you childlessly feels like a useless soppy girl who wouldn’t travel alone simply because her boyfriend isn’t going with her, a bigger part would just rather be with him. Because sometimes your strength comes from humbly recognising what makes you happy regardless of how conventional and stereotypical it may appear. And also because, by the end of the month, you will be leaving him.

And your Twelve-Year-Old Self can go screw herself.