The Last Page

In Amsterdam, Netherlands.

Maybe if I didn't fall in love so easily,

it would be easier to avoid heartbreak.

Maybe if I loved myself as much as I loved people,

I wouldn't need to sell all of my belongings,

take a road trip and fly to a foreign country-

just to lock myself up on some hilltop countryside

surrounded by a language that I don't speak

because

things didn't go exactly as I had planned it.

And so.

I got lonely with myself.

I started having dreams

that I was with people-

flying in the sky like a

helium balloon.

Taking ice-cream from passers-by.

and writing poetry on the naked body of a lost lover.

Maybe the hardest part,

was that I made it so hard on myself.

I kept walking and searching

thinking I could force-find

what I was looking for

Only to end up with blisters on my feet and a profound

longing from something from my past,

anything.

(I kept looking for us)

And although I don't think that I have found it.

I have found something.

I have satisfied a deep curiosity

and I feel more able than I ever have.

I don't feel afraid to love

but I feel less certain that it will happen quickly.

If at all.

But maybe that's not the point.

Because I have found that dancing with myself

-eyes closed-

is a great way to dance.

And being and feeling love no matter

with whom, it is just that I am feeling it at all,

is better than being locked up with only myself

to converse with.