This week has been filled with nostalgia for me, which came all over me when I started to assemble photos I could use to update an old and very corny vision board. I decided that instead of making a collage of inspirational photos, I would print out photos of memorable moments spent with my friends. And since my newly found friendships here in Germany have disappeared as quickly as they have formed, most of the photos are from my time in Paris. And it made me realize that I’ve been pretty miserable in Germany.

Not so long ago, I told my therapist that I feel like my depression is getting worse and worse, despite the medication. It didn’t occur to me that it’s probably because I just don’t feel at home here. Weirdly enough, I moved so many times since I came back to Germany, ten times in less than five years to be exact. I guess I was just too busy to realize that I’m not happy here. Though I have been bitching about our ineffective public transport system since the moment I arrived here.

My life in Paris was so much more bubbly, which might sound paradoxical after my last post about my eating disorder. But considering that I have been carrying that around for 17 years now, the time in Paris (except for the first couple of months) was the lightest, and the friendships I made there last until today. Besides, I never understood how the people here in Cologne don’t get bored out of their mind, going to the same parties, meeting the same people over and over again. Cologne is more of a village than a city, it couldn’t be more different from the vibrant city of Paris where, even after years and years of living there, you still discover something new every day. I also miss the international crowd. And opposed to what every tourist says, people in Paris are actually super friendly. They just don’t like bullshit and have a cynical view of life, which I both find very charming.

But more importantly, I spent a big part of my 20s in Paris. So, of course, it was the best time of my life. I really miss the nights I spent at the bar I worked at, after finishing a shift. We’d stay until the cleaners kicked us out, had a couple of drinks, and played silly games. Or we’d go out to the other bars that belonged to the same chain. During this time, I was barely at home. I just spent all my time at the bar. And I absolutely loved it.

It’s not like I had a “real” perspective. I was just a full-time waitress. But I definitely didn’t feel as stuck as I do know. And I had fun. Growing up is a scam anyway.

Still, I felt so much more inspired back then than nowadays. Take yesterday: I went through some of my Facebook posts. Like everyone else, I haven’t used Facebook in a really long time, so it was fun to go through the things I shared a few years ago. I had no idea I used to be funny and witty! Honestly, some of these posts were almost genius! And now, my brain is just dusty. I’m not even able to think of a good comparison right now. Oh how the mighty have fallen!

To solve this problem, I have a two-step plan. Step one: Start again to drink wine every day. That’s what I did back then. Even though it happened that not everything was very clear the next morning, it was also during that time when I wrote beautiful texts and scribbled (seemingly) intelligent annotations in the margins of the books I read. I even had the habit of sitting in bars, having a couple of drinks, and reading until the letters got blurry. It felt so intellectual. Now, I even have a small collection of black turtle-necks, which would only add to the aesthetic.

Step two: I’ll finally finish that fucking degree that I’ve been putting off for years and move back to Paris. And I’ll have a tiny apartment on the sixth floor, without an elevator of course. It’s the only way to go and will help keep my butt in shape despite all the wine I’ll be drinking. Hopefully, I’ll have weird neighbors as well, In that way, I’d have plenty of material to write about. Maybe I’ll even see my mosquito-hating friend from the metro again.

With my new photo wall, I’ll definitely have enough inspiration to do so.