Cinderella tissues and emotional issues

Over a year ago, me and my friends went out completely broke and magically found our way to our favorite club. Almost all night we danced to rock classics and some reggae inspired by some THC illegally filling the air. After a party we stayed smoking outside desperately trying to keep that night alive.

A handsome, masculine guy came up to us and started a conversation interesting enough for us to end up at his. The energy of that gallery/studio and flat without heating was just amazing. We drank green tea, ate placebo mushrooms, talked about life, physics, death, art and The Universe and stayed up till morning without any feeling tired at all.

I fell for that conceptual artist, his aura and 32 years. The age difference seemed huge to me, but for the first time in long months I met a person that so truly fascinated me. It all seemed like a Cosmic gift so I swallowed my fear and let myself feel something. But we spent one night together and that was it.

Well, not really. After the best birthday eve of my life I lent his some cash for food, sure he would give it back next time we saw each other. The silly amount got back to me via my best friend, who got it from my ex-girlfriend, whose paintings he was supposed to exhibit. Once again I developed an allergic reaction to anyone who saw more in me than a walking vagina, just to defend my mental health.

Just to be clear, it’s not a sad story. If that attitude works both ways one can have so much fun with walking dicks paying for drinks.

Since I moved to London I often feel too old for many things. Living in student’s halls, joint in a public place or getting excited over boys. But that stream ended last weekend, when in sitting in over 21 pub I suddenly felt the insecurity of being too young. I avoided eye contact with staff not to get ID-ed. I hid a pack of tissues with Disney’s Cinderella on it when taking one out.

Later on I felt teenage again sneaking my date into my room. And even fresher and not bitter at all, just after he left and I let thoughts flow imagining more perfect situations. And as stupid as kinder garden pupil with absolutely no life experience completely lost it. I got emotionally unstable over a text saying not quite what I let myself dream of.

But just to be clear, it’s not a sad story. It’s a proof that I still have some feelings, that I could bet someone 20p large number of lovers ago.