love ★ f1

tamara

my story begins in a small village in andalusia, where i was born and raised. my parents were extremely catholic—more than you can imagine. from the time i was a child, everything revolved around religion: church every sunday, prayers before every meal, and of course, they sent me to an all-girls' nun school. in that place, they taught me that every desire or thought outside of the "right" path was a sin. i followed the rules because i didn't know any better and, honestly, because i was scared of disappointing my parents.

that nun school was stifling. it was a place where freedom didn't exist; everything was about control, discipline, and an obsession with purity and morals. but everything changed in my senior year. i met clara. she was my best friend—the only person who made me feel alive in the middle of all that pressure. we spent hours talking, laughing, sharing secrets. one day, without even realizing when or how, i fell in love with her. it was beautiful, but also terrifying, because i knew what that meant in my family's world. being with clara felt like the only time i could breathe, but i also felt like i was drowning in guilt for loving her.

i tried to hide it, but love isn't something you can easily lock away. it started to show in the way i looked at her, in the way my heart raced when she was near. eventually, my parents noticed something was different. one day, they caught me writing clara a letter that revealed everything. when they read it, they lost it completely. my dad screamed about how i was ruining the family's honor, and my mom just cried and prayed over and over like i was possessed. that night, they kicked me out. it was brutal. they told me i was a disgrace and that they wouldn't tolerate having a daughter who was "corrupted" like that.

i was devastated, but in a way, it was the push i needed to leave that suffocating life behind. i packed my things and moved to madrid to chase my dream of becoming a singer. it wasn't easy at first—no money, no place to stay, barely knowing anyone. but music became my escape, my way of dealing with all the rejection and pain. i threw myself into my work, determined to make something of myself.

things got even more complicated when i found out the truth about my dad. it turns out he'd been cheating on my mom for years. the man who preached so much about morality and sin was the biggest hypocrite of all. after that, something inside me snapped. i lost all interest in men. how could i trust them after seeing what my dad did to my mom? my attraction to women became the only thing that felt right, the only kind of love that felt safe. for a long time, i thought it was just because of clara, but the more i explored my own feelings, the more i realized that men simply didn't do it for me. they reminded me too much of all the lies and betrayal.

now, i'm carving out my own path in madrid. i'm starting to get noticed in the music scene, and for the first time in my life, i feel like i'm living for myself and not for someone else's expectations. the hurt is still there, especially when i think about how things ended with clara and how my family rejected me, but at least now i'm free. free to be who i am, without hiding, without fear.

but even with all that freedom, the shadows of my past still follow me. madrid is a big city, full of opportunities, but it's also a place where loneliness can creep in. i thought leaving my hometown and breaking away from my family's grip would be the end of my struggles, but that was just the beginning. pursuing music was a dream, but it came with its own challenges. rejection after rejection, performing in dingy bars for people who barely looked up from their drinks, late nights wondering if i made the right decision—it was harder than i ever imagined. sometimes, i found myself questioning everything. was i good enough? was it worth leaving behind everything i knew for this?

one night, after a particularly rough gig where the crowd was dead silent, i was feeling down. i walked home alone through the city streets, the neon lights reflecting on the wet pavement. i found myself wandering aimlessly, ending up in a park where people were out enjoying their friday night. i sat on a bench, watching couples pass by, laughing and holding hands. it hit me then how much i missed having someone close, someone like clara who just understood me without words. madrid gave me freedom, but it also left me without the comfort of having someone who really knew me.

as i sat there lost in my thoughts, a group of girls walked by, their laughter loud and carefree. one of them, a brunette, caught my eye. she noticed me too and smiled, a warm, genuine smile that cut through my gloomy mood. before i knew it, she was sitting next to me, introducing herself as marina. we talked for what felt like hours—about music, life in madrid, and how hard it is to find real connections in a city that never stops moving. marina was different. she was open, confident, and unapologetically herself. something about her drew me in, and for the first time since clara, i felt that spark again.

we started seeing each other more after that night. at first, it was just casual, grabbing coffee or catching a live show together. but soon, it became something deeper. marina wasn't just someone to pass the time with—she challenged me, pushed me to be better in my music, and gave me the kind of support i hadn't felt in a long time. she didn't judge me for the things i carried; she embraced them. with her, i didn't feel the need to explain or hide who i was.

but like everything good in my life, it didn't last forever. marina got offered a job abroad—something she couldn't turn down. she asked me to go with her, but i couldn't just pack up and leave again. madrid had become my home, and i was finally getting somewhere with my music. we tried to make it work long-distance, but it didn't take long for things to fall apart. the separation, the time differences, the missed calls—it was too much. eventually, we both knew it was better to let go than to drag it out. losing marina hurt, but it also taught me something important: i wasn't the same scared girl who left andalusia. i could survive heartbreak and still keep going.

after she left, i focused even more on my music. i poured all the pain, the loneliness, and the hope that someday things would be different into my songs. slowly, people started noticing. i got a gig at a well-known venue in the city, and things have been looking up since. maybe i haven't figured everything out yet, but i know i'm on the right path. every step forward, no matter how small, is a reminder that i've made it this far despite everything.

there was one more significant event that stands out in my past. a few years ago, just after moving to madrid, i participated in a local music competition. i was nervous but excited, hoping it would be my big break. the competition was fierce, and i remember the atmosphere being charged with so much energy and anticipation. i'd been practicing non-stop, trying to perfect every note and every word. the night of the competition, i felt a mix of adrenaline and fear.

as i took the stage, i was overwhelmed with emotion. it felt like all my past pain, all the struggles, and all the dreams i had were tied to that moment. i started singing, and for a while, it felt like everything else disappeared. but then, midway through the performance, i could see my parents sitting in the audience. i hadn't told them i was competing; their presence was a complete shock. my heart raced, and i stumbled over a few lyrics. it was a moment of sheer panic. i had always been afraid of them discovering my new life, and here they were, witnessing it firsthand.

after the performance, i was devastated. i felt like i had failed, not just in the competition but in my attempt to leave my past behind. i expected them to approach me with anger or disappointment, but instead, they seemed to leave quietly without making a scene. later that night, i received a message from my mother. she apologized for showing up unannounced and admitted that she had come out of concern. it wasn't a reconciliation, but it was a small step toward acknowledging the choices i had made.

the competition itself didn't lead to a major breakthrough, but it was a pivotal moment for me. it showed me that while i was still haunted by my past, i was also moving forward. it was a reminder that my journey was my own, no matter who watched or judged.

so yeah, love has been messy for me. it's been full of ups and downs, betrayals and heartbreaks, but i've learned that it doesn't define me.