paris syndrome

Paris was supposed to know me.
Paris was supposed to tell me who I am so don't have to go on wondering.
But the first thing paris said to me when I stepped off the plane was:

"Madi, you know it doesn't work that way."

what i had forgotten was Paris isn't just a one stop destination.
Paris is a stop along the way on a journey of discovery.
It's a place where bits and pieces of myself are hidden all over the city, and to find them, I can't just stay put. I have to go exploring.
I have to go to all of the small bakeries, all the museums and monuments, and all the secret cafe's that sell the best drinks and pastries.

Paris knew me better than I knew myself,
but I had no idea.
I had never met myself until Paris painted me on the crouded streets of the city,
a pathway to a whole museum full of artwork masterpieces!
Famous artist's work plastered all over the walls.
And each of them was a part of me,
never even seen by my eyes before.
I was on my journey of discovery.

I've always envied people who have come back from Paris.
So sure of themselves, knowing who they are.
I've always wanted that.
To go to paris.
To find myself.
But now that i'm here,
it doesn't seem real.
I dont know myself like I thought I would,
and i dont know how to fix that.
Maybe i should spend more time alone with myself,
or take myself out on dates.

It's just, I think I deserve to know the person i'm going to spend the rest of my life with.