(A sad lil post I never posted...from Summer 2015 </3) “I feel like I'm letting my memories down if I don't share them with someone”
My heart aches tonight for all the opportunities and relationships I left behind in Oxford. I honestly still think back on those days in amazement that they really happened to me. It was as perfect as it could be, romance-filled, culture-filled, friends-filled. I will never have another moment in time when I feel as fulfilled and free. I can't believe I did it. I can't believe it's done. The best moments are the ones that scare you. It was the hardest and the best thing that ever happened to me. I just want to sit and soak in those memories for a while. I don't ever want to forget them. And I already am. The time I ran into the guy on the street and we talked and laughed and made plans. The times I danced and sang for hours on end with the greatest group of friends on earth. The time the guy called me out on the way my lip quivers when he's around. The time he showed up. The time I said goodbye to him. The time I skipped hanging out with the other guy because I had a party to go to, where another guy thought he was in love with me, but found out very quickly he was simply drunk. The time my phone died in the middle of the pitch black streets of Oxford, I was alone, and it was the most free I have ever felt. The time I met the boy from Oxford that climbed the tree and had better hair than I did. The times where I asked a few simple questions and had friends for life. The times I had to turn down people who wanted to see me, because I just had too many friends. The time the boy from my ancient homeland told me about my state and showed interest in my boring old life from before. The times he sat by me. The ways he looked at me. When he made me laugh. And got drunk and forgot to tell me. The time he had to move back to my ancient homeland and I knew I'd never see him again, and he knew it too. The time I snuck on a train. The times I got stuck in the rain. The time I had too much to drink and felt a little heartbreak. The times I was a kick-ass wing-woman. The times when my friends let me cry for hours and made me crepes and cried with me. The time I went to Spain and attempted to use my three years worth of Spanish. The times we ordered pizza in the middle of the night. The time we met Scott Disick. The night I went to London all alone. The time when I was in Scotland alone. The random dance parties. The family dinners. My pasta. The times I fawned over beautiful dudes and beautiful accents. The times they did so to me. I'll never forget being loved for being who I was and never having to question my worth. My annoyingly-gooshy-kindness and my over-openness were the perfect fit for living abroad. Little time to make big leaps. People soaked me up for once in my life--let me feel needed and appreciated. All my hard work finally payed off. People understood where I was coming from... A place of love and desire for connection. I finally felt at piece about the way I looked at the world and the way it looked at me. Everyone was diffident but everyone was kind. Kindness was the important part. I think somewhere it usually gets lost. But not here. Not in Oxford. Of course there were a few bumps along the way. The hardest few weeks of my life happened while there. So I had to make a pit-stop back home. And I don't think I even remember those 10 days. I came back to Oxford--an incredible and even more wonderful return. It was truly perfect for a while. Except for my silly heart and non-committal-idiocy. Then People started to leave me slowly. Heartbreak after heartbreak. Packed up my whole life again. Left so much behind. And then it was time for me to leave. Hardest day and a half of my life. And now I'm here. Have been for over a month. And it still doesn't feel right. I think my heart is still back in Oxford. I haven't been the same since. And I can never get it back.