I’m going on day 12 of being without a home in the city of love.
My time of homelessness was about to come to an end; I was about to get my keys to my Parisian apartment. The dream apartment, located in a cute neighborhood with adorable French doors and a beautiful view!
For the past week in anticipation of moving in, I had begun reading the IKEA catalogue religiously and circled the dishes and décor that I would soon adorn my adorable apartment with!!!
I WAS FEELING ALIVE AND READY TO CONCUR!!!
Things took a dramatic turn for the worse.
I found myself SOBBING (not crying, but HEAVING) on the street, alone, in the heart of the “Parisian ghetto”.
There had been a mistake, and my apartment had been reserved for someone ELSE!
The fact that I have already signed a lease, and paid a deposit was of no concern to my landlord!!!
Everyone told me exchange would be a great eye opening opportunity for me to find out who I really am – well I can’t stop crying in the middle of a Parisian Café – HAVE I FOUND MYSELF??–
I’m alone and upset and I don’t care who knows it!!!!!! – IS THIS MY AUTHENTIC SELF?????
Is public crying even a culture norm in this country???!?!?!?!?
I’ve devoured a “Mille Feuille” THE French pastry whose name directly translates to 1000 calories (I used the flakey crumbs to wipe my tears)
I feel lethargic but in the wise words of Lady Antebellum – I’d rather hurt, than feeling nothing at all!!!!!
They all warned me that going on exchange really pushes you to the limit… WELL it’s been 12 days, 15 croissants, and 2 jars of Nutella and all I can say is I’m homeless and my jeans are cutting off my circulation – HAVE I REACHED MY LIMIT?!?!?!