Colophon

Copyright © Your Journey

Author: Joyce van Ombergen-Jong

Final edits: Maaike Schneiders & Robin Jong

Translation: Abbi Gough

First print 2024

Cover design: Lotte Prins

Interior design: Robin Jong

Illustration: Lotte Prins

Photography: Eva Snoijink

No part of this publication may be reproduced, by printing, photocopying, computerised digital filing or by any other means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

ISBN 9789083361307

NUR 285

www.yourjourney.academy

www.joycevanombergen.com

The characters in this book are all fictional; any resemblance to places, events and people (in both spirit form or not) are pure coincidence.

I dedicate this book to all the young people who let me walk alongside them on their journey. Sometimes for an hour, sometimes for weeks, and with some for even years. Through them, I learn new things every day, including about myself.

Furthermore, they inspire me with their everyday, special, and touching stories.

¡Muchas gracias!

- 1 -

‘Congratulations, the board has unanimously chosen you!’ I stare at my screen in complete disbelief. I blink twice to make sure it’s real. It actually says that!

A million thoughts race through my head. Oh my god! Really? I knew that the video I sent in was good, but never did I actually think they would choose mine. In all honesty, I was afraid that I hadn’t earned it yet. I had just started my first real job when the competition was announced, but still every ounce of my body was telling me to enter anyway. After much careful consideration, I decided to just go for it. My thoughts busied themselves with imagining a multitude of worst case responses, drafting a list of people who would not be happy with my decision - including my father, but the opportunity was too good to pass up, so I decided to take it as a sign.

During my gap year I learned to both trust my instincts and listen to the clear signs sent to me by the universe. In hard times and in making difficult choices I benefited greatly from this new outlook on life. Where I had previously looked outside of myself for answers and turned to what felt like half of the world for advice (only to find myself to be less sure about what I wanted), I instead turned to myself: I know now that I’m the only one with the right answer (for me). At the end of the day it is merely a question of listening to my own ‘pigheadedness’ and choosing to trust it. I will admit that I don’t always achieve it, but I’m well aware of that and am getting better at it. A big win.

It’s quite funny, really, because I used to secretly think it was all just a whole lot of bullshit. What signs? And what universe? As a firm believer in coincidence, it was pure nonsense. How things have changed. How did I get here? I have come to realise that my dismissal of signs as nonsense was just a way for me to deal with the things I didn’t understand. That I, in keeping busy, was able to secure much more control over my own life. Regardless of what others thought of me or, further still, wanted to decide for me. Previously I didn’t mind that too much, letting others choose for me. If in doubt, someone could always just take the reins. Then I would be able to blame the other person if things didn’t turn out the way I wanted. Now I see how much of a coward I was. You need to have courage if you want to take responsibility for your own life. But I’m getting sidetracked again. Welcome to my brain!

To be able to understand this story fully, I’m going to have to take you back in time a little. Three months before I received that message in the mail, to be exact. I’m sitting on an outdoor terrace with my best friend, Tess, discussing the job I have been offered. I’m telling her that I’m having doubts. The offer is for a new position at an international clothing company with a sizeable salary and great prospects for future career growth. A dream job, one might say. ‘An opportunity like this might never come up again, Rowan. I’m super jealous of you,’ she adds at the end. ‘But it doesn’t excite me, Tess. My head is telling me to just take it and to be thankful for the opportunity, but my heart is saying something different. There is this voice coming from deep inside of me that won’t shut up. Is this really what I want? Do I really want to pin myself down like this, and so soon?’ I rant in frustration. When I found out I had been hired, I was genuinely happy. I felt honoured, and to be honest it flattered my ego quite a bit. I took the offer with both hands and immediately ran to tell my friends and family about my fancy new job. But now I’m increasingly noticing how overly enthusiastically I speak about it, as if I’m trying to convince myself that I really did make the right decision. It doesn’t help that everyone around me is super thrilled for me and impressed that I have managed to get this job. My experience with working abroad, when I took some time away to try and work on myself, appears to be one of the main reasons why they chose me. It doesn’t hurt that my father is also friends with Jaap van Houten, one of the managers, who is already assuring me that he assessed my application with the same impartiality as the others. My parents are not putting in any effort to conceal how proud they are of me. Even Tom, my boyfriend, who is usually so humble, is already going around bragging to all of his friends. I’m noticing more and more how much that gets on my nerves. And that inner voice stays on nagging. Do I really, truly want this job? Or have I said yes for all the wrong reasons? Status, money, not wanting to disappoint my family and friends… to name a few.

‘I just get the feeling that something isn’t quite right,’ I say softly and begin to cry. ‘Oh Rowan, really, is it that bad? You’re really doubting it that much?’ responds Tess, putting her arm around me. I immediately begin to cry even harder. ‘What do I do now?’ I blub through my tears. ‘A little birdie once told me that stopping to take some deep breaths is always a good place to start,’ grins Tess. I laugh through the tears because I know that the little bird she is talking about is me. As soon as I returned from my time abroad, it didn’t take long before I was preaching the ways of my newly acquired life lessons. That was until Tess confronted me about it: ‘It’s really great that you learned so much while you were away, Rowan. I really am so happy for you. Don’t get me wrong, I do find it helpful to get the odd piece of advice here and there, but sometimes it gets to be a bit too much and I feel like I’m no longer allowed to do things my way anymore.’ A real punch in the gut, but I had to admit that she was right. Everyone has their own time, pace and way in which they learn. What works for you doesn’t have to work for everyone. Since then I have tried to gauge whether someone is looking for advice or not before offering up mine.

‘You’re right, I just need to take a deep breath and come back to myself,’ I say resolutely. I’m making this out to be such a big drama in my head and that needs to stop now. Because what if the company comes back with an unpleasant response? Am I not going to hugely disappoint Tom and my parents?

‘You know what? I think I’m going to go home and run a bath, that should help me to relax a little. The answer always comes on its own.’ We say goodbye, give each other a tight hug and not long after I’m on my bike riding home. The feeling of the wind in my hair helps to quiet the storm brewing in my head just slightly, I can already feel a headache coming on. Why does this happen every time I cry? Once at home I’m relieved to find that no one else is in. I wipe the smudged mascara from under my eyes as I wait for the tub to fill. I liberally pour in some bubble bath and soon I’m soaking surrounded by a mountain of perfumed foam. I feel my muscles relax, and maybe I’m only imagining it, but my headache seems to be fading. If I ever have my own home, I need a bath just like this one. My father, after years of relentless badgering from my mother, finally caved and we have had our precious tub, one of those romantic ones with clawed feet, for some months now. How marvellous! And naturally, of course, my father is the one who uses it the most. My mother and I are enjoying it too, but we both just don’t really make enough time for it. And my brother finds baths far too time consuming so continues to stick to taking showers. ‘Romance’ isn’t really in his vocabulary. Which is definitely going to cause some trouble if he ever actually gets a girlfriend. I’ve sometimes heard whispers along the grapevine that he’s seeing someone, but clearly no one serious enough for him to feel the need to actually bring them home to meet the family. I like the sound of having a sister in law. I have always wanted a sister and this is probably the closest I will ever get to actually having one. That’s assuming that we get along, that is. I’m getting side tracked again. I close my eyes and take a few long, deep breaths. I think back to how this job, the one I am now so unsure about, came to cross my path.

After my gap year I decided not to continue studying but to work instead, and in my search for a nice job, I choose to apply the same tactics as with my year out: to not stress too much. Of course I check the odd forum or search engine for job openings, but I also want to trust that the right one will somehow naturally cross my path. My father has other ideas, not only constantly asking me what my game plan is, but also actively asking around his social circles too see if anyone knows of any openings for me. Mostly I find his interference annoying, but on the other hand it is also kind of nice. My dad loves what he does, though he also works incredibly hard, and I have realised that he is a real role model for me in this sense. Three weeks ago he arrived home with the biggest grin you’d ever see on his face. ‘Rowan, I have great news. Jaap van Houten, a friend from the group with whom I go motorbiking every year, is the head of Marketing & Communication at BELIXE, a huge international clothing business. He just told me that they are looking for a junior designer in the marketing department. A nice, young team. You can send in your CV, and he has already agreed to let you come in for an interview anyway because you are already familiar with each other!’ I do know Jaap; he’s a cool guy, always telling me with such passion about where he has travelled and where he still wants to go. He’s about the same age as my father, but comes across more puppylike. I really like him. A position as a designer at a top international company sounds like music to my ears, I’m just not sure if I’m warming towards the idea of working for a massive corporation. ‘Sounds interesting dad, do you have his email address for me? Then I can send my CV over today. And… Thanks for putting in a good word for me. It really means a lot,’ I say to my father. He is visibly happy with my reaction and messages me the contact details right away. As he walks towards the door, he turns around and says: ‘Rowan, I can open the door for you, but it will take your own initiative to get in and, if you get hired, to stay in. I expect you to handle this professionally,’ he says and gives me a wink. As soon as he has left the room, I let myself process everything that has just been said to me. He’s right, he can open doors for me, but it’s up to me to decide how, if, to get myself through to the other side.

I can feel my chest grow heavy. What if I do get the job and I completely mess it up? I’ll be working for a friend of my father, is that smart? But then again, how big is the chance really that this goes wrong and why am I stressing about it now? I have to actually get hired first.

‘Rowan: expert in seeing problems where there aren’t any!’ I say aloud and I have to laugh at myself. ‘I probably shouldn’t put that on my CV; then I definitely won’t get the job,’ I chuckle. I’m no stranger to self depreciation, which in my eyes is a quality well worth something. Suddenly I realise that I have forgotten to ask whether I need to send over my CV in English too. I decide to add both my Dutch CV as well as an English version. That is, when I actually have an English version, which means there is still work to do yet. I head to my bedroom and sit down at my desk. In good spirits I lift up the lid of my laptop. It’s been a long time since I put myself to work for a set goal and I notice the new found energy it’s giving me. I type the company name into the search bar and discover that BELIXE is not only a luxury clothing brand, but also a vendor of all sorts of other products and accessories. That afternoon I knock out an English version as well as an updated Dutch version of my CV, both with a refreshed design, and by the end I’m proud of the final product. I quickly write a letter of motivation and send my dad a text asking if he would like to look everything over for inevitable mistakes before I send it off. He replies faster than I expect and the next thing I know my work is being handed back to me with a few notes. I make his suggested changes and then hit send He can be proud of me. My phone pings: ‘Nice job, proud of you!’ I smile and notice how nice of a feeling it is. I know it’s more important for me to be proud of myself, but I’m not quite at that point. Not yet. Like my Portuguese friend Paola, who I met while travelling on my gap year, always said when it came to things she didn’t know or couldn’t do: “I might not be able to do it YET, but I’m learning.” Above everything that ‘not yet’ speaks to me the most, and so I have adopted it for myself.

A few hours after sending in my application, I already receive a response from Jaap van Houten:

‘Thank you for your application Rowan, I have forwarded it through. If all goes well, you will be contacted later today so we can pencil in a first interview. Kind regards, Jaap van Houten, Head of Marketing & Communication BELIXE.’

Okay, so that was fast! Soon I will already have a meeting set up. But hold on a second, am I reading that right? First interview? That means that there will be, if all goes well, at least a second interview. Maybe even another form of test? I have heard of big companies requiring the passing of a major assessment before hiring new staff. Jeez, I hadn’t thought about that. It does make sense, after all, it is a huge international operation. These things don’t just materialise overnight and they undoubtedly have a very rigorous recruitment procedure. It obviously makes no difference whether or not you are the daughter of a friend of the Head of Marketing and Communication, there are no exceptions. And rightly so. I’m glad that I’ve been given a bit of a leg up by my father, but I want to be hired off of my own merit.

I’m pulled from my own thoughts by the sound of my phone. I see an unknown number on my screen. As I pick it appears to be Jaap’s secretary hoping to find out when I’m available for an interview at short notice. We decide on 10.00 for the following morning. Step two is complete. Now I’ve really got the ball rolling. In preparation for my interview, I go back to thoroughly study the BELIXE company website and already begin to brainstorm some possible questions that I could ask. My father once told me that it is good to not only come prepared to answer questions but to ask them as well. I run through my own positive attributes once more and where I have room for improvement, because they will undoubtedly question me on those. I’m creative, I can work well in a team, but I’m also more than happy to work independently. Planning is not my strong suit, in fact, I’m rather bad at it, but on the flip side, I’m very flexible. Oh, and at my last internship they said that I have a knack for dealing with stress!

Before I go to sleep that night I lay out my outfit for the next day: a nice pair of black trousers, a smart blouse and a blazer. I know myself and that when pressed for time I will stress about trying to find the perfect thing to wear. Now all I can do is hope that my outfit gets their stamp of approval, I’m applying to a clothing company afterall.

- 2 -

That night I fall in and out of sleep due to pre-interview nerves. I have had job interviews before, but they were for much smaller, part time jobs and internships. This is on a whole other level. I toss and I turn and when my alarm goes off at 07:00, I feel like I have barely slept at all. Getting up, I’m feeling slightly nauseous. I need to get these nerves under control or today is going to amount to nothing. First a shower and then something to eat, even though I seem to have lost my appetite. Downstairs I grab some pieces of fruit and then I hop into the shower. As I brush my teeth I look myself right in the eyes.

‘You’ve got this girl! Your life doesn’t depend on this, you just need to do your best, which is all you can do,’ I say to my reflection.

I get dressed and take a good look in the mirror. You can’t tell in the slightest how nervous I really am, I think… I draw a smiley face on the mirror with my lipstick before applying it to my lips. It makes me smile and I feel myself start to relax. What is the worst that could happen? That I don’t get the job. Would that be so bad? There will be plenty of other opportunities, this is just the first, right? I already feel a little bit better. I’m just going to do my best and maybe learn a thing or two, which would be a nice takeaway. Luckily I was smart enough last night to preemptively google how to get to the company office, which is saving me any added stress now. I have allowed myself enough wiggle room so that even if my train is delayed, I will still have plenty of time. If all goes to plan, I should have a travel-time of forty-five minutes, even accounting for the time it will take me to walk from the station. This is just about the maximum time I will allow myself to commute for a job. It would have to be the most amazing position in the world for me to willingly put up with more than an hour’s travel. When I arrive at the station I still have ten minutes before my train is due to depart, so I quickly grab a coffee for the journey. On the train I pull out my phone to read some more about the company just to be sure. I type their name into the search bar and open up their website. The cursor keeps thinking and my screen stays empty. Strange. I refresh the page and wait. Still nothing. I type Google into the search bar to check if it’s something to do with the internet connection. The page loads immediately.

Don’t stress, Ro. You’ve done more than enough preparation. It’s really not necessary to read the same text five times over. Or is it?

Before I would have thought it was a mere coincidence and wouldn’t think any more of it, but now I’m starting to think that there was a reason why I couldn’t get onto their website. Right now, I can come to only one conclusion: I simply have to trust that I’ve done enough research. This seems like a good moment to put my phone away and instead look out the window. I’m catching myself more and more lately being completely unaware of where I am because I have been too distracted by my phone. I know that I’m not the only one who has become a slave to their device, but I also know that I’m the only one who can do something about my own personal addiction. I wonder what BELIXE’s telephone policy is? I’m applying to a position in the Marketing and Communication department, so there’s a chance that I will need my phone to, for example, keep up with their social media presence. I wouldn’t find that a problem per se, but I’m curious to know if this is the kind of job that will eat into my evenings and weekends. Well, I’ll just have to wait and see.

First I actually need to find out what the position entails. The next thing I know the train is pulling into my stop. I get off and check my screen to remind myself of which bus I need to take. Walking out of the station, the bus is already waiting and leaves in just two minutes. If this connection were to run this smoothly every day, getting to work would be a piece of cake. I get off the bus and take in my surroundings. This could quite possibly be my future workplace. I’m not quite sure what to think of it. An industrial estate always sustains a dismal and dejected air with its grey imposing buildings. I look at my phone and with the help of Google Maps make my way to the right address. Once inside the foyer of the company offices, I immediately forget that I’m in an industrial estate. The space is light and spacious and my eyes fall upon a series of mannequins standing dressed in the chicest outfits I have ever seen. This place is significantly more inspiring than what I saw on my way here.

I sign in at the front desk and the receptionist, a young man who looks to be about 25 years old, invites me to take a seat in the waiting area. I ask him where I might be able to find a toilet and he indicates towards the hallway. I don’t really need to go to the toilet, I just want to quickly check to see if my make-up needs touching up and give myself a bit of a pep talk. The feeling of nausea has lessened slightly, but not enough to go unnoticed. In the bathroom I run my hands under the stream of the tap and look into the mirror that hangs over the sink. Thankfully my face doesn’t seem to be giving away how nervous I am. I check to make sure I’m the only one here, sigh deeply once, dry my hands and then let them rest on my stomach for a moment, which helps me to better monitor my deep breathing. I look my reflection dead in the eyes and say softly: ‘You’ve got this, Ro!’ Then I reapply my lipstick. Today I have gone for a deep shade of red; red gives me a sense of self-confidence and I once heard that it gives you a more powerful look. Satisfied, I walk back to the waiting room where I sit down and pick up a magazine to help pass the time. ‘The current appointment might run over, would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea, water?’ asks the receptionist from behind the ultra modern desk. Politely I decline his offer, I don’t want to smudge my lipstick. I flick through the magazine and monitor my surroundings. Every once in a while someone walks by, all of them wearing clothing that I could only dream of owning, let alone pull off. Could staff discounts be one of the perks of working here? That would be amazing, although equally dangerous because I’m afraid that would run the risk of a huge chunk of my pay cheque flowing straight back into the company.

‘Rowan, are you ready?’ I startle and am brought back to the present. Looking up before me stands a young woman holding a clipboard. She smiles kindly at me and points towards the lift. While I walk with her she tells me that her name is Hannah and that she is the secretary for the head of Marketing and Communication. I observe her from the side and see that she is also wearing a super stylish outfit. The clothing alone is already convincing me that I want to work here. Once we have reached the topmost floor we exit the elevator and enter the hallway. At the second door Hannah stops and knocks softly. ‘Come in!’ sounds a voice from the other side. Hannah holds the door for me and gestures that I may enter. I take a deep breath and walk into the room. It is airy and light and behind a huge desk sits Jaap van Houten, who promptly stands to come over and greet me. He gives me a firm handshake and I find myself looking into two bright twinkling eyes. ‘Rowan, nice to see you again.’ I immediately feel at ease. Jaap pulls up a chair and asks me to take a seat. ‘Can I sort you out something to drink?’ he asks. ‘Coffee, tea, juice?’ he follows with a wink. I once more politely decline because I know myself in situations like these, when I’m slightly on edge. Before you know it I’ve spilled something or knocked something over, and what was it again? You never get a second chance for a first impression? Jaap pulls out my CV and carefully reads it through. I can’t tell if this is the first time that he’s seeing it, but either way he is taking his time. I can tell from how quickly my heart is beating that I’m still a little nervous. I try to calm myself down by looking around and slowing my breathing.

‘Why did you decide to apply to BELIXE?’ asks Jaap as he lays down my CV and looks over at me, almost amused.

I’m momentarily thrown off guard. I had expected questions about my CV or about myself in general, but not this one. I feel myself going red. ‘It’s okay, take your time, I can imagine that you might need a bit of time to formulate an answer,’ says Jaap and he nods at me encouragingly. I search for an answer that I think will leave a good impression. Why did I decide to apply here? ‘Um, I decided to apply here because I like the idea of working in an international environment,’ I answer after what feels like way too long.

Really Ro, is that the best you could come up with? I like the idea of working in an international environment… such an inspiring answer… NOT!

Aagh, the critical voice in my head has clearly followed me into my interview and has finally decided to let itself be known.

‘Why does that interest you?’ asks Jaap who doesn’t seem to be overly impressed with my response. ‘I spent half of my gap year working overseas and travelling around, and I noticed how much I enjoyed meeting other people from different cultures. It changed me, or better said, it helped me to become more myself.’ Jaap shifts to sit up straight and a smile creeps onto his face. My answer has clearly gotten his attention.

‘Helped you become more yourself? Interesting. Can you expand on that?’ asks Jaap.

‘While travelling it is so much easier to connect with strangers. Conversations deepen so much more quickly. You trust each other with more ease and share things that you usually wouldn’t share, probably because odds are you will never see each other again. It changed the way I look at things and taught me things about myself I didn’t know yet,’ I respond candidly. It’s crazy, I didn’t have to think for one second about how to answer that. ‘Nice Rowan, and you’re right. I travelled a lot myself early on in my life and it really is eye opening on so many levels. You definitely learn a lot about yourself and, from experience, I know that it makes you quicker to dare to do or try new things,’ Jaap replies enthusiastically. I’m happy with his reaction and feel that the ice has been broken. I can relax. Jaap asks a few more questions about my CV after which he briefly gives me a quick run down on the company. At one point he gets up and walks over to a cupboard in the corner of the room. He takes out a huge book and lays it down in front of me on the table.

‘In this book lies the history of our company which should help you to get a better idea of our vision. Flip through it at home at your own leisure. My secretary will be in contact with you this week to let you know if you have made it through to the second round. I’m speaking with a few other applicants today but I can already tell you that you have made a positive impression on me,’ says Jaap smiling as he sticks out his arm to shake my hand. ‘Therefore, if I were you, I wouldn’t be worrying too much,’ he adds with a wink. I shake his hand, thank him for his time and then walk out of the room with the book under my arm. As I stand waiting for the lift, I can see my reflection in the doors. I smile widely to myself and my heart does a little somersault. I have made a really good first impression and am therefore one step closer to getting the job! My day couldn’t get any better!

That evening I’m set to babysit for the neighbours and it seems like the perfect opportunity to engross myself in the history of BELIXE. Once I have put the kids to bed, I put the kettle on and then get cosy in the corner of the sofa with a cup of tea and my book. It is thick and heavy and full of stunning images. I ask myself if every applicant is given their own copy, but that seems to me like a costly affair. Happily I open the book and start to read. I discover that BELIXE was founded in 1968 by an American couple and has grown substantially over the years, such that they are now established in more than 20 different countries. It has photos of the founders, a few shops and various collections designed over the years. It brings a smile to my face and makes me consider the fact that I actually do want to work here.

That night I wake up soaked in my own sweat. I switch on the light and sit up amongst the pillows as I try to pull myself together.

‘It was just a dream Ro,’ I say softly to myself.

It was just a dream, but a nasty one at that. I dreamt that I had to present a portfolio of my designs in front of a team and that one of them laughed mockingly saying: ‘And you call yourself a graphic designer? My six year old daughter could do this!’ The rest of the room nodded in agreement and fell into fits of laughter. I burst into tears and ran from the office. And then I woke up.

I know that our brains try to process things in our sleep, so I try not to dwell on it too much. It just felt so real. I do what I usually when I want to relax or find myself unable to sleep: I stick my headphones in and put on some meditation music. Luckily today I quickly fall back into a deep sleep.

- 3 -

The next day I try not to dwell on the nightmare, however, the application process is weighing heavily on my mind. I may well have made a positive impression on Jaap, but for now I still don’t know what the second round involves and I’m spiralling in the unknown. Is it just another interview? Do I need to present my portfolio to a group of people? Or do I have to do some other kind of test? I still remember how much stress my final year exams at school caused me. At one point, after consulting the family doctor, my mum even ended up giving me some homoeopathic remedy to keep my nerves at bay. She probably only gave it to me because the rest of the family was suffering second hand just as much from my nervous hysteria, that’s how unbearable it was. I was a perfectionist even back then. Luckily a lot of things have changed since then and I have learned how to keep my nerves under control. That is… I have gotten better at recognizing when stress is threatening to take over me and how to better deal with it. I’m succeeding more and more in consciously doing something about it.

‘There is no point in stressing about the second round right now, Ro,’ I tell myself firmly.

Distractions are always welcome and I’m glad that I’m babysitting more on top of having the option to meet with either my friends or Tom. Biking also helps to clear my head, so every chance I get I take my bike and head straight to the beach. I like the beach best in the winter, when there aren’t as many people, and especially when there is sufficient wind to let my hair loose in the gust. I always finish my trip with a warm hot chocolate with whipped cream at my favourite beach pavilion, Life’s a Beach.

That’s it! I’m going to go to the beach for a quick trip down memory lane. I grab my diary, a pen and my headphones and soon I’m on my way. I pedal quickly and after a short half an hour ride I’m locking my bike to the fence just before the beach. Walking up I spot the flags of the pavilion and a smile creeps across my face. I have so many memories here. For as long as I have been coming here in the summer with my parents this place has held a special place in my heart, and ever since last year that place has only grown: this is where I met Tom. He was the one that advised me to apply for a job at a bar owned by a friend of his in Spain. He was the one that upon my homecoming asked about my travel adventures and listened attentively on our first date to the waterfall of words that fell from my mouth as soon as I started to tell him everything I experienced on my gap year. He asked the odd question and never gave me the impression that I was annoying him with my seemingly endless stories. I felt so comfortable that I went so far as to tell him about my crazy host family and about the explosive tantrum my boss had in the bar where I worked, an event that actually really upset me. I even told him about my short summer fling with Lorenzo, the Italian boy I met on my travels. When I finally stopped talking he was silent for a moment before saying, after what felt like ages: ‘What a wonderful trip, and what a tough cookie you are for being able to confront not only others but also yourself,’ looking over at me with a crooked smile. That was the exact moment I started to fall in love with him. The fact that he thought I was tough and didn’t call my stories out for being weird or soppy meant everything to me. I have always felt like a bit of an outsider and am not one to quickly give my heart to another. I have always liked boys, but I often also find them to be superficial, especially when they’re in a group. I’m okay with them laughing together about stupid jokes, in fact, I enjoy joking around with them, but it shouldn’t last too long. At some point it’s good to talk about more serious topics.