"Picture" by Jessica.

Picture is a song by Carly Rae Jepsen. The title isn't really representative of the song and its lyrics. The lyrics are really beautiful and they kindda represent what I'm feeling those days. I just put you some of the lyrics so you can understand it better.

" Would I like to see you again?
You name the day
And I will pick the city
We’ll fly away
Til then, call me when you miss me
If you’re asking if I’d really like to see you again
I say, oh just say when
Tell me that you feel it
This you and me together
No one would believe me
Even I cannot believe it
You kiss me like you mean it
Oh baby, it don’t get much better
Would I like to see you again?
Darling just say when"

7 days I'm back from holidays. 16 I'm get back from my little piece of paradise : Spain. 

Those days I'm thinking a lot about it. Just because it was, by now, the best vacations I spent, the best moments I lived. And I just want it to restart and never end.
There I knew stuffs I've never knew before. Feelings were multiplyed by 1000. And the after-vacation is even harder. Imagine : You had all the things you wanted during one entiere week, and then, after 7 days of pure heaven, someone take it all away from you. You fall.
When I get back, I was in a sort of mini-depression and breakdown. Maybe doctors should recognize this as a real desease : the vacation blues, like the baby blues, but for the holidays.
 

Really, I'm not kidding. I was sad. Had to say goodbye to the thing I care more about : Freedom. Something my father  ignore. He doesn't seem to know what kind of definition this strange word hides. —Free— That's what I was. Past. Yes. 

Today, with my two trip-mates we met a group of guys we knew there. I didn't even imagine we will see them after the trip, but we did it! We organized something and met in the capital.
Not that I wasn't happy to see them ; they are really sweet and we have a good time with them ; but I would have prefered to met someone else. Someone I met in Spain too, but with whom I shared something more. The shame doesn't allow me to explain the whole story. Everything is in the piece of lyrics I wrote up there... Underlined.
I miss him, in a way. In another way, I don't. I know that it wasn't something real. I was aware of that. I've always been. It's just that we spend some really nice moment together and I don't know. I felt different with him. Maybe it's just about his lenguage. An english talking boy always makes me fall in love. And I love him and hate him at the same time. I hate the way he makes me think about him. I knew what I was doing. I had it undercontrol. I control everything, every step I make. I controled it. And now, I'm stuck on that. I wasn't a few days ago and now every second I spent with him comes back to my memory. I remember it all. The first "sorry" I said to make him look at me. His first smile. His first look. Penetrants. His eyes on mine. Everything. The way he made me feel when another girl was next to him, even if it was before everything happened. The way I felt after he gave me something more than just words. And when I was there it was just a good feeling, but I didn't give a damn about it. It was the moment. The feelings multiplied. Nothing more. And now, this fucking blues about the end of the holidays drives me crazy and tries to make me give more importance to all of it. It doesn't have the minimal importance. And I know it. My heads knows it. My heart maybe doesn't. But sorry, the heart is just a pomp that drives the blood in your body. A heart doesn't make you fall in love. Your head controls it all. And I try to let me drive by my inteligence but this bitch seems weak those days.
I try to understand. I'm smart. I let me drive by my "heart" only when I know it worth it. And now it doesn't. And every part of my brain knows that. So what the hell is happening to me?
Maybe the fact I try to forget it all just make it worse. I don't know.

Maybe because those days I try to escape the real life things weird are coming up. I thought that with the time the miss of the town, of the dudes, of the trip will be always more weak. But 16 days after it's stronger. I miss it so badly. I will give everything to get back there. Maybe not everything, because I just have to pay a plane and then the hotel. But well. It won't be the same. 

I thought that coming back, showing my parents that I made it, that I didn't get in troubles, that I'm safe, that I didn't touch anything bad there will help them to trust me more, to know that I own and drive my life the way I want, and that it's a good way to start my adult life. But it doesn't seem to work like this. I miss my freedom. I feel guilty to say that but I miss my week far from my parental authority. I guess it's what's happening at home that makes me feel so sad and drives me crazy about a story about what I didn't give a damn a few days before and that I consider now as a huge thing.

I will recover my entiere mind very soon. My "heart" and my brain will stop the fight. Because there ain't no need of fight. Silly things were silly 16 days ago, and they remain silly. That's life. It's unfair, but we have it easier than other, so I can't complain.

If you haven't read the whole thing : you are probably someone very smart who knows how to avoid terrible situation and crazy people. Congrats.

If you read it all : well, thank you. Know you know how crazy I can be. Crazy or weird. Or pathetic. I don't know. You guys are the judges. Don't be too hard. Please.

Thank you, anyway.
LOVE.

—J.