When we took off from London, Ambre grabbed my hand and I swear I could feel her eagerness to land on the French ground. She fell asleep on my shoulder during the flight, and I did the same.

Paris was a work of art, the buildings were so pleasing and aesthetic. Like, it's impossible to imagine that these wonderful constructions were made by men's hands. In spite of the handsome appearance of the city, the smells of the streets were a mix of puke, pee and unidentified things. So I'd rather live on the roofs of Paris than in the streets because hell, it freaking stinks.

Ambre was on cloud nine, her laughter was echoing down the streets and she was posing all the time next to some random arts on the walls.

To be honest, I loved being in Paris with my little bean. She was saying cute things and odd phrases in French, and I got to admit that when she was saying "Voulez vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?", I couldn't stop laughing. She had a way to talk to strangers without being misunderstood, she opened herself so much lately; and I found her so damn beautiful.

During this trip, she started acting weird. She was really, like, really close to me, she tried to play with my hair, to hug me, to touch my hand the whole time. And I felt awkward like I was cheating on someone but who even the hell? My mind was telling me to start to put a barrier between us, but somehow I couldn't. I swear I tried, but I didn't know how to do that without being mean and hurting her. She was sensitive and I knew it.

I actually knew it better than anyone. She had called me one time, sobbing and shaking around 4 am because her crush had blocked her after he asked for nudes and she refused. At first, I'd laughed but when I realized that she was completely serious, I just left my house, on tiptoe, and I went through her backyard in order to access her window. I comforted her for the rest of the night. I won't describe how huge were the dark circles under my eyes during the interminable day that is: Monday.

When we got back from France, Ambre was sort of distant, I couldn't tell why, I guess she'd been aware of how she felt about me. And suddenly, I was a lilac sky and she decided that purple just wasn't for her. So, she stopped talking to me, looking at me, hanging out with me, even eating with me and Lord knows how precious that time spent together was. I just knew that our friendship was over, maybe she was too affected by her feelings for me, maybe she felt like she couldn't continue that way anymore, or maybe it was just me. I may have done something wrong. And I was sorry for that.

I guess this is how a relationship generally ends. As a shining star; it swells, shines, and ends up falling down, slowly being destroyed by its own speed. So, indeed, the shining star destroys itself by wanting to sparkle more than it could, doesn't it? Is it supposed to happen that way repeatedly? Are we presumed to violently crash ourselves every time we embark upon any relationship?

I find this cruel and egotistical. We know that it's not going to end well, but anyway we get along to feel less lonely, to be cared about. And this, that is tough. But time heals wounds, and we will repeat this exact pattern for the rest of our lives. In itself, it's worth it. Go on, find someone you'll probably be fond of and reiterate the same mistake to feel again the feelings you missed.

What do you really miss? How you felt or the very person? Guess you'll think about it twice now.

END.