I heart you London.

I fell in love with London like I fell in love with my first boyfriend.

I wanted it all, all the time. I loved every corner, every smell and every one. The bad stuff I loved it too. Even when I didn’t want to, I taught myself to enjoy the things I knew weren’t right for me. My love was too strong, young and extreme. I was passionate about the architecture, the history but mostly addicted to this strong sense of belonging. I belonged to this city that many loved too. I was the city. I was the 24/7 supermarkets. I was the sarcasm. I was the British accent. I was the busy commuters. I was the drunk 20 somethings on the last tube home.

For a long time the thought of leaving this city was heartbreaking and I kept finding excuses to stay. Surely I could not leave London as I had bought three cool lasagne dishes and wouldn’t possibly be able to leave those behind. Like with my first love, I allowed myself to be sad, to get hurt, to surround myself with the wrong people. I thought it was my fault if I wasn’t happy. I was in the greatest city in the world. Vanessa what is wrong with you? How can you not be fulfilled? What was I not getting right? Was I not good enough? Surely my love was enough, right? Right?

I have now learnt that sometimes love is not enough. You gotta extract the right love for the right time. It’s a thing you can’t explain. You can only feel it. London made me lazy, bitter, depressed. I was not always a good person. But it was not London’s fault. 
You will always remember the good old times with the first love of your life. And this is how I think of London today. I feel relieved that I have finally understood that ‘it’s not you, it’s me‘.


One of my fave views from the London Eye. Excuse the poor quality of the photo, my iPhone 4S was my partner in crime at the time!

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