Chapter 4: My twice-of-my-age boyfriend from past

I was 15
He said he was 19
Then 21
He apologized and said he was 25
Finally I found out he was 29

One a day I’m lying in my bed. Thinking about how my friends are starting to lose their virginities and all I’ve ever done is french kiss with my first and only boyfriend when I was 13. My phone beeps, I take it and there is a simple text “My name is Andre(changed), nice to meet you”.

Me, as a virgin emotional teenager, start fighting about how I don’t like to talk to random strangers(I love talking to random strangers, literarry. I’m addicted to it). He starts being rude. He starts acting so childish, that I think he’s a teenager too and I say “Does your mother know that you’re being so rude to girls?” and he said “First, I am 19 already. Nobody needs to know where I am. And second, she died when I was 13. Good Night”

And I’m feeling like an asshole. I’m feeling like the worst person in the world and I’m starting to excuse. Saying I’m sorry he suddenly says “You two have the same name”. And I’m feeling excited. I decided I needed to meet that guy. It was so emotional for me.

We sent eachother thousends of messages. He even paid the costs for my phone once. He said he loved me. He wanted to sext me sometimes too. It was awkward. Being a virgin and with porno-based sex education I couldn’t really understand the meaning of many things. Once he started texting like “I imagine you in a red lingerie, lying in my bed…” and all I texted was “I better sleep naked, good night”. After five years I realise how dumb it sounds but it was really normal for a 15-years-old child. CHILD.

Then we met.
In the middle of the main street of the city. That’s the place where most of internet couples meet. We took a walk, he says nothing important, just a bunch of useless things. I think he is okay. I do not want to meet anymore. I’m afraid, but I don’t know why.

He said he had to move to other country. We met second and the last time. Some of my friends said he was a good-looking and handsome. I didn’t think so. I wanted him to go but I didn’t want to feel lonely. Finally he left. Angry because I didn’t have sex with him. I was glad I didn’t.

After few months I was stalking him on facebook. I saw his birthday label said way more years than he said to me. I saw he had a new girlfriend. Oh, a pregnant girlfriend. And I felt sorry because of them, because his baby would be only 15 years younger than his ex-girlfriend.

I was a lucky one
I escaped a pedophile

Chapter 3: Overthinking

I’m a great lover. And I’ve always been in love since my puberty happened. I hated it first but then learned to appreciate my character and ways of living.

I always said to my boys (and they were way too many) that if it should be an one night stand, then, please, never ever call me again. But they kept calling, started dating me and after 2-3 dates they were “sick”, they had “flu”, they were “abroad”. One of them even pretended to have cancer. First I was super sad but then, when I realised that it was all a lie, I was even more sad. Just like I thought that only thing boys liked in me was my vagina and then they wanted to go away as soon as possible before the real dating.

I had insecurities about my body. Oh, some extra kilograms. Oh, ugly boobs. And I found some extra public hair on my body. Then I started shaving my pubes. It got itchy and I had plenty of ingrown hair. I was so afraid of sex because of all these things, that pause between losing my virginity & second sex was 21 months. Aand I did it with the same guy…

These stories are 3-4 years away from me. I know that they won’t repeat themselves unless I will decide that I hate myself and my body again. Now I have a boyfriend, being 10kgs heavier & never perfectly shaven, we fuck so much we can. 

It’s not about you, it’s about finding the right guy. ”All you need is just a little patience”.

Stop overthinking. It can really damage you. 

Chapter two: Nostalgia



I should write a book. Really. I could even stole the name from tumblr: “Ideas that seemed like good ones at 3 a.m.”. And I know the first sentence too: “But they weren’t”. This book will never be written and it’s pages will never see the daylight I think. But just before 365 days I had totally other thoughts in my brain.

And I was totally the other person.

It was just like one year ago.

One fucking year ago.

I thought that my moving in foreign country was for only one year. I wanted to go back with a little money, study again and be happy with my friends and family. It was an illusion that seemed like a reality. I want to go there but I will stay here too. And this nostalgia is killing me slowly from inside.

I wanted to see the therapist, because I had the first stages of anxiety and depression. I have them now too. But, oh my, they cost so much I won’t be allowed to pay them for next two years. So I’m staying home googling how can I get better. But nothing really helps for the person so sceptical like me.

Nostalgia never ends. All the endings are fake. Just like my will of staying here.

Chapter 1: The beginning

It wasn’t like a big bang. Not at all. It was so silent, I could hardly notice that everything was going to change. It was almost an year ago and I’m still not realising it like i should.

At first I felt uncomfortable realising that I was being 18 and had no job. Second I tried to start working. I had plenty of part and full time jobs. But it was a waste of time. Some of them weren’t paying me at all. Then I started studying. Everything was okay till my deposit said zero and I had to ask my mum for money again and again. After that I realised I wasn’t being happy when I had a boyfriend when we both were still living with parents. No privat space = No fuck. I realised that kissing in the parks & having sex once in a month when we could sneak out from the parties for 5-10 minutes, was a huge problem.

And, at last, I left.

Found a job abroad, took a visa and left.

I left my family, my best friends and my boyfriend. I left my house and the streets I love. I left my country.

I couldn’t realise that before my departure. When the airplane started, I felt anxious, but I didn’t cry as usual. That’s where I found out that everything were going to be OKAY.