For as far as I can remember, I always liked being single. Being single is being free, independent and most of all: being confident. You have no one to impress except yourself. I would wake up each day, smiling at my crazy morning hair and think: knowing the world is all yours to take, what’s your today’s plan girl?

I am twenty. I am a goal-driven, passionate and focus person. Plans are my things. I love control, no, I need control. I function with lists; I set reasonable (or not so much) goals for every day/week/month/year; I am over thinking things and feel the need to analyze everything I feel. If there is a problem, I will do anything in my power until it is fixed and I will not stop until I figure how. I admire Blaire Waldorf and Virigina Woolfe. I want to be a strong and confident woman. I don’t want to let anyone or anything stop me from achieving my dreams (move to New York/England and become a writer).

I always found jealousy so annoying. I would roll my eyes and think: “gosh this girl/guy only suffer from his/her own insecurities, I know my worth, I would never do it”.

Yeah… My butt!

I deeply apologize to you, jealous human.

Can I now join your club?

You see, as a single young woman, you don’t need to ask yourself a thousand times in a day If He notice you today, If you should text Him or simply waiting for Him to text you first (and If not, does that mean he doesn’t like anymore? No even better: did He ever liked you in the first place or is this all in your head? Are you just crazy? Yeah. You just sounds crazy brain, please stop this right no).

As a single woman, the only person that matter first if yourself. You have plenty of time just thinking of who you want to be and how to become that person and it’s freaking great. Growing into the person you have always wanted to be is a tough but fantastic process. I always have sticked to that and I was strongly convinced that this how things were going to be for at least three more years, until I finished college.

Until I met Him.

And boom, goodbye dear plans.

It’s not that I don’t believe in love. Or want to fall in love for the matter. I love stories. I live by books. And with the experience, I have come to learn that boys in books are not boys in real life. Boys in books are romantic, they love deep conversations, they say all the right things and you know from the very first moment you saw them that they like the girl and it is perfectly clear for you that they will end up together. You never see a heroine wondering why her Prince Charming didn’t text her back or smile at her. You never see a heroine going all crazy Rambo over a guy. She is way to busy thinking of ways to save the world and everyone else. So of course, I knew that real life wasn’t like that. Boys are no prince in shining armor. Here, the girls can do their saving themselves and this is so, so much better.

Nevertheless, when it comes to my own life, I still expect a fairy tale. And nothing less.

I want a Chuck Bass. An Adrian Ivanov. A Rhysand. A Lucas Parker. Every girl wants one. We want to be swept off her feet. We want to be chased. We want to feel loved and cherished. We want someone completely and absurdly crazy about us, who will stand up for us, open the door for us. We want love with a big L.

A long lasting flame that will burn until the ends of time.

Except that guys are no more prince in shining armor than we are damsel in distresses. If we are strong, confident, resourceful and absolutely capable of taking care of ourselves, then how can we expect the other gender to not be different from the fairy tale clichés?

You see, guys don’t like deep conversations about the meaning and purposes of life (sadly). They get confused. They send us mixed signals. They evn act like douchebags sometimes. They need us to tell them exactly what is wrong instead of making them guess. They may love our souls but also, they like sex and there should not be any blushing for that. They like to talk about what they love and forget to ask you what you like. They love food more that they probably love you. They are a little less mature. They play games. They break hearts without even noticing it.

Boys are dangerous.

Boys break hearts.

But we still love them anyway, isn’t it?

The thing is: the first guy I have ever loved… He didn’t break my heart.

I did.

I was fourteen, he was seventeen and I learned that he was in love with me. Like I-am-crazy-about-you. And I was crazy about him too at that time. But the problem is that as much as I did loved him, I was also completely and utterly terrified.

Not scared of him. But scared of love. Scared of being close of someone in the way he wanted me to.
So one day, I ran away and never looked back. I gave him no explanations at all, I just left.

And since then, that is all I ever did.

Running away when things were getting to scary to face. (...)
.......................................................................................part 2 is coming