I always been on the run and always for the same lame reason: love.
My first crush was Lenny, I was 12 and taller than him. Was the years when teenagers were getting their first Nokia 3310 and I was texting him hoping for an answer, I gave him my diary to get him to write something nice on it, instead he throw it from the school bus. What a douche.
Then my first kiss was Sandy, he was so tall and handsome. I don’t even remember his voice that short our relationship was.
One morning I was going to Barcelona and on the plane I met him, Harry. He was definitely my first love. I was almost 16 and he was just 13, strange thing for a girl, but you should have seen him. Big blue eyes and blond hair, full lips and he was taller than me and so mature. It was the wrong time and the wrong place. We kissed once, two years after we met, we were not just meant to be.
Frankie conquered me with his humour. He was just hilarious, I was 18 and he was 26. I always being a crazy one, he told me he was moving to another country and I apply for a visa to go with him. By the time the visa arrived he already had enough of me but I still decided to go on the opposite side of the country he was going. Had the best time of my life.
But the one that made crumbs out of my heart was Matthew. One night a friend of a friend asked me to work at his place ad someone phoned in sick. I accepted and went for it. I was sitting on a chair outside and here we go, big brown eyes and slightly long hair. I never felt that way with anyone else, when I think of him I still shiver. It was the best and the worst thing that could have ever happened to me. I love the funny side of him and the special bond we have. I can spend months or a year without seeing him, but when we sit down in front of a glass of bubbles, it all comes back. The happiness and the pain. And confuse the shit out of me.