The Girl Next Door

Dear Stranger,
If you are reading these lines, then that is because somehow, you have ended up in my blog.
For that, I thank you in advance, and hope you will come back often to read more.
I’m April, a 25-year old girl who is going through life with awe and excitement, even if sometimes things don’t really go the way I’d imagine them to go.

There is nothing extremely spectacular about my life until now, I guess: I have had an ordinary childhood, my teenage years were confusing but peaceful, and my college years were OK too. I work at a bookstore, and I live alone in a one-bedroom apartment with my cat, Romeo. I think of myself as a well-adjusted person, with friends, foes, likes and dislikes, laughs and tears.

The whole concept of blogging was alien to me, until my friend C. asked me why I would not do it. This came into conversation one night we were at a bar, having some drinks, and when we had one too many, I told my friends some things about myself which comprise the only part of the out-of-the-ordinary I can actually talk about concerning my life.

See, I have been living in this city for two years now, after I moved from my parents’ house. I think I had to run fast and far away from where I was brought up, and prove myself I could do it, that I could be on my own and succeed in whatever I put myself up to. Not many people do this, you know. Most people just get comfortable, stay in sight, and pretty much nothing in their lives changes. I took the chance and ran away, because my heart was broken.

When I was sixteen, there was a boy in my school. His name was P. We met casually, and fell in love. I was sure he was the love of my life; thinking of it, I never bothered to look around after we got together. We shared everything from tastes to plans. He was handsome, polite, intelligent, ambitious, proud, brave and honest. The last part, thought, time would prove I had gotten it wrong…

Two years ago, we were living together and we were planning to get married. I had a job as a secretary, and he was starting his career as a lawyer. We were more in love than ever, and I was probably the happiest girl in the world, because I had it all: love, prospects, dreams, and they were all going to come true.

Then, one afternoon, I left work a bit early than usual, and headed home. I opened the door, closed it and proceeded to the living room. I noticed P.’s briefcase and coat by the couch, and something felt really wrong, as he was not supposed to be in so early. That was when I had the instinct of going to the bedroom…