It’s been three years since the day I fell in love for the very first time. Just the awareness hit me like a sharp iron knife going straight through my heart. I was scared to tell her –I knew that she still wasn’t over her ex and that she just wanted to be friends- but I couldn’t make up a fairytale anymore. I loved her. And after two months of constantly talking, I thought I’ve waited long enough. At first, she was laughing at me and didn’t believe me at all, although I was very serious. To my great astonishment, she admitted the feelings were mutual, and bam, love was in the air. But things didn’t continue very rosy. My parents threw us apart, as soon as they discovered the relationship. I haven’t spoken to her since that remarkable, crucial day. I wasn’t allowed to do so. A couple of years ago, my parents decided to keep me away from what they called ‘a terrible world’ by teaching me at home: the memorable home-schooling, which I fiercely hated. The first time I went to a real school was nearly 3 weeks ago, when I started university. I’m studying psychology, the only section I’ve always been interested in. My parents though wanted me to become a scientist, a doctor, a genius. I’ve never really cared about what they wanted for me. Maybe cause I’ve always rejected their opinion anyhow. I’m done with that. Next week, I’m leaving home forever. I’m going to move into my lover’s student apartment. I hope she’ll be OK with that. That she’ll still love me as much as she did three years ago. Let’s keep our fingers crossed…

-Paul-