I have this yearly ritual that kind of originated without my wanting to. Each June, around the 15^th, I listen to Heat Waves by Glass Animals. Actually, I don’t just listen, I immerse myself in it. Because I have embedded so much meaning in each verse that I feel like the lyrics are an audiobook version of my diary.

It all started when I was in high school and I emotionally attached myself to a certain event through that song. I used to listen to it while on vacation with my family, looking out over the sea and the promenade. My main preoccupation was convincing myself that what I was feeling was not that deep. 

Oh, well, it was.

That’s why the following year I was navigating the same situation, only hugged by a different context. When I left for college I kept my tradition, I merely changed the tone. At some point, it started to feel cathartic. As if the wound has healed and I was just absently caressing the scar. The feelings faded and so did the scar.

The next year, I was strolling down the streets of a foreign city that hasn’t felt foreign in a long time, but not quite like home either. I felt proud of myself for getting over a hill I hadn’t even known had a top before. It felt as if I was rolling right in a patch of flowers and wish-fulfilling dandelions.

Last year, I kind of almost forgot about it, but I get somatically attached to traditions, so my body kindly reminded me when it was time to pop in the earbuds.

This year? This year’s ceremony was a little different. It all began when my online persona was flooded by edits of Devi Vishwakumar and Paxton Hall-Yoshida from the show Never Have I Ever. The background music was obviously Heat Waves because that’s where I first heard the song. Before sitting down to write this entry, I did the usual: headphones, song, looking out at the sunset and thinking about what was going on inside little me’s head a few years ago. Only I couldn’t really do the usual routine. I kept feeling this warm tingling under my skin.

For the first time, I wasn’t reliving my life, I was living my present. When I was in high school I had no idea what I wanted to do or where I wanted to be. I just went to college in the same country my sister did her degree in, because it was the logical choice. Because, all my life, my parents worked and fought for me to go there. I never actually sat down and asked myself if that was what felt right in my heart.

And I know I mention returning to my hometown a lot around here, but it really was an immense step for me: someone who saw going back to where you came from as a failure. It forced me to re-evaluate my whole belief system. I started asking myself questions such as if I was wrong about this, what other things was I misjudging? And, although I am starting to get a bit bored of the same views and same paths, I was – and am – happy around here for the time being.

That’s why I kind of slowly and organically decided to stick around and give it a chance. So I went looking for a city where I could do my Master’s degree. The thing is that I feel really uncomfortable in big cities, but big cities are usually the ones that hoard the most universities. My palette of choices was quite narrow and precious gouache was already dripping off of it.

I had visited one of the options back in winter, when one of my professors mentioned a name I hadn’t even thought about. It was a rather small city, not that far away from my hometown. Everyone I talked to seemed to enjoy it, they all found it charming. With words such as cute or nice wrapped around my synapses, I hopped on a bus on a Friday night. I took my emotional support person with me, namely my boyfriend. We arrived in the early hours of the morning, so nothing made sense and the sky was dark.

Equipped with 4 hours of sleep and an over-stuffed backpack, we set off to visit as much as we could until we had our ride back home. Somewhere between our accommodation and the family-owned restaurant we had picked for breakfast, puzzle pieces just fell into place. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t even know we were in the process of making a puzzle. The streets were curled up just like arms in the midst of a hug. They were all paved with cobblestone so the whole atmosphere was somehow medieval (although I am sure the cars would have something else to say).

The buildings looked…happy? I can’t find a better word, as they were colorful and sitting proudly and comfortably next to each other, in a silent agreement. The parks felt like parks! Which is always mesmerizing after living in a big city for a couple of years. They didn’t feel man-made, or forced into existence. They generously shaded all souls that could benefit from a break under the linden trees.

Even my boyfriend was enchanted by the city and he usually keeps quite neutral opinions. Moreover, the weather seemed to align with our feelings, as it was supposed to be cloudy and rainy.. Yet, the sky painted a calm shade of blue the entire day. The only sign of fuss was the wind, gently announcing me that I have burned my back.

Honestly, all these descriptive passages have a point: I didn’t expect to like it so much because I was taught that nothing around here was worth my attention. Again, no one intended that in a malicious way. Around 30 years ago, the country I was born in seemed hundreds of years behind. While the Americans were getting ready for groundbreaking television such as Sex and the City, we were having riots and revolutions.

Now it seems almost like a betrayal to like it here, to give it a chance. Maybe it’s just a bubble, maybe it will pop. But even so, I don’t want to go away when all the fibers of my being tell me to stay for a while, to grab a cup of tea, maybe a biscuit or two. When I was a child, I was afraid of leaving crumbs in my grand-aunt’s bed. She always reminded me that a certain level of mess is normal, when you are enjoying yourself and not worrying about every little detail. Besides, she was only bothered by deliberate rudeness. She didn’t have anything against children being children.

I took inspiration from that and decided to be okay with a young adult being a young adult. Exploring what feels right at the moment, because I am too young to only live in a possible future. I allow myself to follow my gut, even if it decides to untangle in the middle of it all (I am aware that was slightly yucky). Because if I follow anything other than what’s inside me, whose life am I then living?