Footprints on my Heart

Chapter 2 -- Plié

I can't recall the exact moment when I fell in love, but sometime during my second week here it clicked. Yes, Paris is a big, dirty, living city. But what makes it wonderful is its beauty and grace. It's different because despite being a big city it is elegant, it is classy.

Through its architecture, language, cultural habits, it is preserved. Storing hundreds years of history, and being home to thousands of famous, notable people, it holds the prestige, mystery, and admiration.

The cafe was only steps from my Paris apartment but I seemed not in a hurry to leave, content to sit and sip, perhaps forestalling the inevitable. The remaining patrons were all local and the patois rolled over and around them and like the background music.

"Well you're on the prime of your years in Paris, made your dream come true, where are you off to next? I don't imagine you will stop here."

The words mellowed inside of me and made me very happy. That others see me as someone who does something about her dreams is an honor.

I thought about it: where AM I off to next? For someone who never stops striving, it is absolutely important for me to update my goals and realms of pursuit.

My coffee was getting cold. I stared down at it as if it had wounded me. Through the brownish liquid I could see my reflection, my eyes distant and narrow. The coffee would do me some good seeing as I hadn't slept for a good two nights.

He was on my mind again. Everywhere I looked I would see him. Everything I did reminded me of him. Even the coffee gave some stark reminiscence of him. No matter how beautiful it is, Paris City choked me. It held a tight grip around my neck.

I was a slave to it, I worked too hard, I slept too little, I go about the miles-per-second pace that it requires to survive. I don't stop. I do, a lot. Not a rhythm lost, or a second missed. I'm in a continuous race with time, hoping that by the end of each day I win.

I don't know why I've been feeling so low lately. I don't feel happy, I don't feel sad, I'm not even angry. Lately, my emotions were just all jumbled up and I have that uneasy feeling in my stomach. All I did is wishing that everything made sense, that I knew exactly what was happening to me. But the truth is I don't and for some reason, it's slowly killing me inside

There's something missing, my life is missing a crucial element. Hopefully with time I will find the answer to what that is, and with that answer, forever expel this recurring loneliness.

I just want to be happy, always.

I wish I could know that everything will be great in due time. I'm so afraid of not becoming the person I want to see myself be. I want to know that my mistakes will be nothing but learning opportunities, and will never stand in the way of my future success.

But who can guarantee that....other than myself?

This was sad. Talking to myself was becoming some sort of habit I had developed. I actually carried on decent intellectual conversations with my mind. They entertained me.

"Mom?" I called out as I got to the studio-type apartment that I happened to share with my mother. I unbuttoned my jacket, pulled my earphones out and unplugged them from my phone.

I opened the cupboard door and hung up my jacket, kicking my shoes off at the same time. I began to walk barefooted, holding my shoes at my left hand. I just came from La Caféothèque where I drank my usual morning coffee with Lisa, another Hungarian Ballerina I worked with