So I fell in love with this Berlin guy.
I wish this was the kind of story you could base a movie with Jennifer Lopez on. I wish there was an enlightenment followed by a run to the airport, short breath, slow motion hugs, tears, a long soft kiss and endless love. But love is end-full and didn’t really bring me here. As long as it can be extremely convincing, I think pain has always the best arguments.
I was brokenhearted on the sunny shiny day he broke up with me and I was broken-everything-ed on that very same night, when I opened my mailbox and got a reply to an email I had sent eight months before.
Dear You, we finally have a position available in our company based in Berlin. Are you still interested in working for us?
Are you still interested in working for free in a field you know nothing about? Are you still interested in living in a city where the only person you know is the one who hurt you the most?
I still feel like I’ve never answered those questions. That was life being ironic with a person who values irony more than many other things, so I simply sat down and watched my life being hijacked by events like I would watch an episode of 30Rock.
While I stepped on that plane December was grey and confused like the future I had booked a one way ticket for. And then my luggage seemed impossibly heavy like my whole life was in it and I was dragging it out of quicksands.
Where Treptow gets extremely silent and violently beautiful, just before ringing the bell of my new house, I realized that my chances of dying in the big scary city were increasing every second. And then again my chances of living were increasing too, and that seemed enough.
This blog is about what happened next.