Once upon a time, there was a boy named Kai, a troubled teen with acne scars in his face, who often hung out with other troubled teens. I was too young and naive to see the danger of his and his friends’ influence. We met when I was only fifteen. Instead, I thought he had the most beautiful eyes and a sensitive and literary side that no other boy in our hometown had. The two of us fell in love because we felt deeply connected to one another due to our chaotic family environments. His parents were divorced and alcoholics so that he and his siblings grew up in foster homes and I came from a family with a younger chronic ill brother, who suffered from a severe form of Epilepsy. Therefore, my parents were always on the edge and there was a lot of tension and drama at home. Kai constantly made a mess of something. One day, when I found out he cheated on me and I reacted strongly to his unfaithfulness and he hit me in response, I called my parents to pick me up and take me home. I was eighteen going towards nineteen at the time.
For a while, I felt as if my world fell apart.
Yet, after the separation, I picked myself up and focused on my studies and realized that now I was free to do whatever I wanted to do. And so, after I finished my Abitur (high-school diploma), I bought a plane ticket to San Francisco and started to push little Anna and Molly, the Pudel, through Golden Gate Park. After a few months, I began to blossom. One day Gregory and Yvonne from Paris invited me to a dinner party in their home on Buchanan Street. I had no idea that two of their male friends would also come. I left before the party ended to meet up with Hélène from Lyon. But before I walked out of Gregory and Yvonne’s door, one of their friends picked a rose from a vase on the dinner table and handed it to me and extended an invitation to come and visit him in Los Angeles. And so, I did, a week before I returned to Germany. It was through this man I learned about LACMA, Las Virgenes Road and the city lights at night from the top of Mulholland Drive.
After two months of communicating through letters, he then invited me to study in Los Angeles and to live with him. I accepted the invitation and that’s how my life in Los Angeles began.
At first, I took English, art history and a jazz composition course at Pierce College, where the head of the music department introduced me to Patrick, a student from Africa. One day, after the two of us, had lunch, Patrick took me on a ride on top of Las Virgines Road and later suggested to try out his piano in his home in Malibu. As we were playing a piano piece for four hands, someone suddenly called his name and so we walked up the stairs into the kitchen where a man with an apron and silver blondish hair was standing at the stove stirring food. Patrick briefly introduced me to him. The man turned his gaze and looked at me. After a little chit-chat, I asked him nonchalantly. “May I ask you what do you do for a living?” “I’m an actor,” he said. “An actor? What kind of movies have you played in?” ‘’Top Gun” and “Alien”, he said. And then I asked him for his name and found out it was no other than Tom Skeritt.
And so my story goes and the point is that, if I had stayed with my first boyfriend in Germany, I would have never come to San Francisco and met the man who brought me to Los Angeles and I would have never received a Master’s degree and become an art journalist and live that adventurous and wonderful life that I’ve been living for many years and in which I have met so many interesting people. I would have also never been able to live and work in other cities, such as Berlin, London, Paris and in the South of China. Therefore, in retrospect, the break-up from my first love and my letting go of a bad relationship was the best thing that could have happened to me.