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From London to Paris to now San Francisco, I have lived in various corners of the world. Growing up with both an Argentinian and Swedish background, I have become an outspoken strong Argentinian woman and a curious hardworking Swedish student.
Although I have learned the reflection and self-growth that comes with travel, I realize it is the people who are content where they live that I look up to.
To the boy I love
Mar 01, 2018 6 years agoThe last performance, I felt nothing. When I left the party, I felt nothing and when Brad, our director exclaimed his wise words to us “Be good, and if you can't be good, be SAFE”, I felt nothing. This would be the last time I would get to know someone in the span of 2 weeks, rushing to put on a show when all we wanted to do was talk for hours long because we always all fall in love with each other. I don't even know if I should feel guilty because I still feel so much, too much for the little things. The glares, the stares and the smiles. Subtlety or a lack of anything kills me every time. I remember when I first started crushing on you Will. But you already had a prettier version of myself when I met you. Everything I am striving to be in the future is now here in the present. Perfect skin, skinny body, deep mysterious voice. Why couldn't you have just kissed her. You didn't. I sat next to you after she did, hoping I would be better because of the extra two years I have lived or because I smell like sweet peaches and you flickered your red pen on my thigh. You looked at me with warmth and I felt seduced. With a pen Will. Of course I think this is leading somewhere, I always do. We play the 20 questions game and I think of a rainbow because I want this game to last as long as possible because I want you to talk to me for as long as possible. but then, you stop. You get bored because that's all you do. You leave and everyone still likes you. You're the salt around a margarita, undeniably surprising yet gross, leaving a sour taste. “fight back Flo, you're a senior”. I tell you both that you're people I don't care how old you are because touch me Will. And all you do is laugh. “hi Flo” says these pretty young boys in the hallway. First it was Lucas, and now it's you and I want you to stop tenting me. Today you wore all black and you looked gay babe. And that's what made me want you even more. Let me paint your nails, let me do your hair. Ten girls probably own those madden boots and you make them look like amateurs. You started off slow, testing how you would express yourself because you never really do. You never tell me how you feel Will. And there you go. Your skinny body starts crushing Brad's wood, your earphones dangling from your fresh trim. And all I want to do is watch you forever until you jump off that stage for me again and not just rip your pants off but rip all your clothes off until you get bored of me again. Until Rhea's golden curls catch your attention and you notice I'm not pretty enough. Until you hug someone else rather than me, to comfort someone if not yourself. I know I'll find someone like you in the future, the reflection of you. Soft, warm and spontaneous. There are versions of ourselves constantly floating in the tectonic layers of our fragile existence and somewhere I'll find your smile. Somewhere I'll find your cold but undeniably sexy humor. Because you're just what I want you to be. You're nothing at all. Maybe that's what you are. A version of the past boy I once loved and the inspiration for the next. You're pathetic pretty boy and I love you.
