Feelings for FUckboy?

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Me on the weekends

From my last entry, you may know that I was already contemplating about this “feeling” I have for a guy, whom we shall call Steve. Steve and I have been hooking up for about two and a half years. Yikes. That is a long time, longer than most of my relationships and friendships, truth to be told. Lately, we have hooked up at least once or twice a week for about two months? My timeline has been hazy since most weekends have been spent drowning myself in an absurd amount of alcohol. But don’t worry, I am not considered a raging alcoholic till I graduate.

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Where am I?

The last article I wrote was about someone that was and is special to me. He will always have a place in my heart like our many firsts in our memories. He was like riding a bike for the first time or the feeling of a sun beaming on my as I sat on the rocks in Central Park. But, like the April weather in Boston, he came and went. Well, he came and left again this time.

I could never truly understand what moving on meant. Moving on for me always meant finding someone new or falling for someone you. It was always about the next exciting individual or event to conquer. I also found a new distraction to obsess over, and it was always BOYS. However, for once in my life, moving on has been a lot harder. I begin to wonder why. Is it because what I had with this boy was different or am I truly still stuck on the “what ifs”?

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Last summer, I went on a trip to the Mid-West. You’re probably wondering, “Why? There is absolutely nothing there”. Well, I thought that as well. I still do. But, I went to go visit someone, who is very special to me (or maybe, my memories). I guess when you go to a town that is empty, and blazing hot, it isn’t so dull when you’re with someone who makes you laugh. Nevertheless, this post is long overdue and a way of closure. Warning: This is not so much of a travel guide but a memoir of a fantastic weekend.

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Everyday you look at yourself in the mirror, you tell yourself “Today will be great!”. Then, you thinking about all the errands you have to run and all the things you have to accomplish by a certain time frame. However, underneath all that regularity, I struggle with this small grain of sadness that is within my heart. It lingers in my mind, with every movement, every thought and every second. I spend all day with a cloak of sadness hanging off my shoulder. I believe at some point, I think spending my time in the sun with friends will deteriorate the feelings. However, when I arrive home, I find myself falling back into the deep hole of loneliness and self-loathing. I hate the person I have become: selfish, heartless, cold, careless, manipulative of my own feelings, and disregarding other peoples’ feelings. Where is this sadness coming from ? Where is the root of my problems?

Underground Madrid

Was it good or poor planning on my part? Well, I think I made the right decision to book a trip to Madrid, just for one day, before returning to the good ole London. What better way to end Spring Break 2018 than in another major and popular Spanish city. Arriving at Madrid was not easy. It required hard labor, mainly just waking up extremely early in the morning to catch a 7:30AM flight. When we arrived in Madrid, 9 in the morning, we were drained. I was torn between staying at the airport till the next morning to catch the flight back to London or heading out to the city. Well, since I was there already, I might as well see what was the talk of the town. But a major dilemma: what do I do with my carry on? I had two carry-ons, both of which I was not willing to drag along with me in the city.

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The City of Gaudí

The final day. The last day in Barcelona. Well, you would assume after all I saw in the first few days in Barcelona that I would be done sightseeing. But, nothing will stop an energetic explorer from seeking beauties in the world. The third day, I dived into the world of Gaudi. Seven of his works are part of UNESCO’s World Heritage Sites. I searched and captured his remarkable works. First thing first, I needed energy in order to hunt. I feasted in Milk Bar & Bistro, a bar with a rich old school 50s’ feels. The food was just absolutely amazing, mouth-watery, and tummy filling. I was surprised to see an adorable cup, that clearly showed each layer of a cappuccino: espresso, milk, and milk foam. I ordered Eggs Benedict, which included two poached eggs on a toasted chapata bread with bacon and topped on with homemade hollandaise sauce. Feeling the warm orange yolk dripping on to your tongue, escaping the corners of your mouth and then, crunching on the perfect crispy bacon.

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