Travel is a way of life
‘One ticket to Paris please’, 5 words I never thought I’d hear myself say again. I was 16 when I associated Paris with love. Yes, you can blame the media, you can blame the internet, but I thank them. I discussed running away to Paris with my boyfriend of 6 years. He’d always say, ‘We’ll go for our honeymoon when we get married’. Somewhere that bothered me. I felt strangled, I wanted to live and he was holding me back.
I knew this had to end, but who has the guts to end such a long relationship? Apparently he did.
I found him in bed with a girl who has to me was a faceless, nameless catalyst. I didn’t cry, I cleared my bank account, took my bags and headed to the airport. It’s not like the movies, I didn’t land and feel pure joy. It was way more real. I found my own way to my dingy hotel room, I booked my own tours, I decided where I went and what I did.
I stood under the Eiffel Tour and took a picture of me, not me and an imaginary him kissing, like every postcard told me, just me. That’s the first time in my life I didn’t feel controlled, guided or pushed. I was free. I was me! I didn’t feel scared to go to a restaurant and eat alone, I was excited to order for myself, talk to any guy I wished, I was happy.
Paris did teach me how to love. But it taught me how to love myself. It taught me that I can live alone out of choice, not because no one picked me. It taught me who I am.
This time I’m going back with a lot more confidence and a man who doesn’t control me but respects me.
Comments
Post a Comment