Here I am again, reiterating myself with the MIA concept. This time my offline time has a different explanation, therefore new consequences are on the horizon.
The last time I took a long pause on thecurlyflower.com was due to love. I was in a relationship that I thought was gonna last for a very long time, with a wonderful person who loved me very much, and I simply wanted to enjoy every minute of it. That didn’t stop me to push my other passions forward, though: romanticism didn’t hypnotize me at all, but it shaped my creativity to the next level. That was the time when I started connecting with many creatives – models, artists, entrepreneurs, bloggers, performers – in Manhattan, Queens, and Brooklyn. I was tasting the freedom of a creative, yet still stuck in college and aware of my status. It is hard in fact to be an immigrant in times like this. All you want is to create and be like the others, but sometimes an international student can’t get further access to certain resources. He or she can, but the paperwork, the language barrier, the bureaucracy can slow you down. But you do your best, always.
This love story of mine didn’t last, though. I was crushed. For the first time in my life, I had reached a point where my confidence was on point and at its highest. However, you can’t build love alone, from one party. My breakup was rough. I doubted myself a lot. For the following six months I thought and was sure that love wasn’t gonna happen to me ever again. I was wrong in loving a person, love wasn’t an option for me.
Winter, spring, and summer came along. Each season brought me tears, but also joy. I have visited wonderful places, warm and lively locations. As an Italian, I missed genuine physical affection, and as a Brazilian, I missed lots of smiles, dance, and soulful music. Those things were difficult to find on campus to me. For many weeks I was sure something was wrong with me because I wasn’t having fun like my peers – including having casual sex, superficial connections, occasional gossip, and drama between girls and boys -, nor I was being creative like my friends in the city – being entrepreneurs, earning money, traveling, and attending parties. Peer pressure on/off-campus reached a point that I couldn’t stand anymore and my urge to run away from New York City was enormous. So I turned my words into reality and caught some flights, starting with LA.
In summer I decided to shift my thoughts and suppress them by practicing silence and journaling. I sucked it up and maintained inner patience. I came to NYC for a reason, and college is just the medium, the first phase, the first place that will allow me to do what I want to do: write and yes, create art. That’s what I kept thinking, and it worked.
Thanks to my time at MarketsMedia and with my friends in Queens, this summer I was able to work at my Journalism studies as well as develop new interests of mine, such as photography, creative writing, and audio production – aka a deeper love for podcasts.
I’ve attended lots of parties. I got tipsy on the 7, A, and E trains. I walked miles and miles in Manhattan, Queens, and Brooklyn. I cried sometimes, but every cry was followed by a less sad one. Crying became a relief call, journaling a necessity, and enjoying my silence a routine. My writing fluctuated and was in a constant experiment. I watched lots of documentaries, Youtube videos, memes, and read many articles on entrepreneurship and economics. I’ve attended a real estate seminar, spent time with my mom and dad, went to concerts, and ate a balanced homemade diet. Summer 2019 was a pretty stagnant time, but somehow a remarkable period to understand my flaws and traumas and mental confusion. And love.
This fall has been unexpected since the very beginning. Real talk. I wasn’t psyched for school to start in September. However, the energy I entered this semester was incredibly calm. I was aware of my situation and I simply started to live my existence day by day. I began doing whatever I felt like doing, channeling all my emotions and concentration on my courses. I committed to live my existence in the moment, read a lot like I used to do in middle school, and keep my passion for fashion and storytelling by my side, very privately. And fashion saved me, indeed: it pushed me and kept me motivated.
During this fall I put the topic of fashion into any project I could incorporate in. Among my classes, my readings, my creative writing, my social media – especially on Twitter, Instagram, and Depop: all great platforms that made me connect with tons of creatives from all over the world. Even if I was in school, a place that I’m honestly tired to be in – because I just can’t wait to be out there and do my own, not because I don’t like learning – I was psyched to explore my passion through different lenses – especially with videojournalism, podcast, mobile media reporting.
My feelings towards NYC changed too. I’ve never stopped loving the city, but that somber spirit of mine became a firm awareness: I became aware that NYC is a real city, and reality is tough. However, I realized that NYC isn’t everything too: NYC has the world, but it’s not the world. And if you’re a true cosmopolitan, you must go and see and embrace other realities. So I went to Atlanta, GA. Cause I’m a curlyflower.
Atlanta was surprising. Not many Italians nor Brazilians there. I was fortunate enough to have met amazing people who made me feel welcomed, special, and happy. In Atlanta, more than Los Angeles, I realized that I am made for traveling, I am made for reporting, writing about fashion, and meet creatives from all over the world. Crazy to think that what I was looking specifically in LA I found in ATL: but life really be crazy, bruh!
Now I’ll spend the last weeks of 2019 in Florence. It’s nice to think that I’ve started my year in Rio De Janeiro and I will end it in Florence: it’s like, this year has been a full circle, where number 3 (my trip in ATL alas) is the charm, and uhm, let’s see.
I let my emotions flow, I took time to be alone, and now I can’t wait to spend more time with myself and craft myself even more. With my solo trips, my readings, hard work on and off-campus I could only see the sweat and the passion I got for life, even in the darkest times. I must thank myself to have believed in me till the last minute. No matter what will happen, I got me.
The purpose of this post is for you, reader, to truly believe in your purpose. Act within love and your capacity for love. Accept love and neglect as you feel. If it’s true love, it will come and go, but always stay. The best love fluctuates but is always there. Don’t play yourself, though. Go where you’re welcomed and leave where you’re unwanted – all these words are valid for any kind of love you might think of (love for your job, your hobby, your family, your friend). I’ve focused on all these kinds of love, no one excluded nor less/more.
Stay in your lane and respond to their same energy. Cause the love of your life is your passion/person- in my case writing/friend/family – and guess who’s the medium between you and your passion? Yourself only.
So love yourself. Be romantic to you – shit is awesome lol, I’ve been feeling a lil Audrey Hepburn more than ever. Clean your heart and keep it straight. love yourself. Question yourself, check-in with yourself. But. Do love you. Kiss, hug, enjoy every bit and the present. Be your own version of Audrey Hepburn. My version? A black soulful Audrey.