Recalling the past

I was 16. Merely wanted to escape the boredom of living in a small city, merely the urge and the hormones that were dictating my passage from the innocence of adolescence to the sexual active world. The car was uncomfortable; I remember a seatbelt trapped in my clothes. I felt nothing but pain and embarrassment; like I was doing something that I was not supposed to be doing yet. I was always impatient in life. I was grabbing opportunities and getting into things that the rest of my classmates wouldn’t dare…or bothered. I stayed with him for three months; he was 23 and handled it well. Working class was my thing. I was feeling comfortable with the idea that he was not using his brains as much as his hands and body to get bread for the table. 

No matter what one does, it is important to know why they to it. Instincts and all that are great. Knowing why some action happens, will help to identify the possible pitfalls and will aid to improve future strategies.

The next one was love, was big love. His name Fred. I approached him in a club. On the way out of the club he put his coat around my shoulders to cover my exposed skin. I was wearing a tiny black top with a skirt and my mom’s pointy court shoes. He drove me home and asked me for a date. We stayed together two and a half months. We had sex only three times or something, his penis was weak. My love for him was strong. He wanted to take me with him because he found a job in a nearby country. I didn’t even have finished school and my parents were super conservative and protective. No mention of boyfriends or nights out. Escaping at nights from home and lying each and every time I was about to meet him. He broke up with me since he was clearly looking for more than just a fuck every now and then. I was crying non-stop for two days and till now was the only time I cried for a guy.

I finished school and went to college. I purposively abstained from sex-and guys in general- for a year. I even had my hair cut short, really short. Like boy-short. I went in law school and the first week I moved to Britain I started having a thing with Fred’s clone, he was 27. A guy so identical to Fred, it almost scared me. It didn’t last more than two weeks, because I met Mitch. Mitch was a final year law student and I thought he would be a great mentor to me. I was 19 he was 23. At the beginning was all great; my inexperience in relationships and my wounds hadn’t shown yet. I was creating mystery about my past in order to hide the lack of knowledge I had for all the things I was supposed to have learned from relationships. Mitch was the first who taught me of how to be active. His negative criticism towards me was his way of getting himself motivated. I kept all his words in my mind and when we broke up after a year, I starting forming actions out of those words. I was elected president of charitable organisations, raised money, gave speeches, and inspired freshers who had no other purpose than to get drunk.   

I am bored of happy people. I get the feeling they are happy because they have no connection with reality. I actually like problems; I like the heat and stress. Stress keeps me alive. I keep the position in life that since problems exist we have no right to be happy, unless we dive into the problem and act in order to help out in every way we can. Then we can drink a beer and be happy, no matter if the problem hasn’t healed completely. This way we can claim our usefulness in this freaking universe and be proud we don’t belong to the group of people who the only thing they aspire in life is to get famous to feed their ego, get married to prove their status, have kids to avoid having their kind cease existing, get laid or get filthy rich. I like the last two indeed but they shouldn’t be the only ways out of misery and boredom.