Malta comes from the Roman word "Melita", which means "honey".

All this Ibiza stuff is lost for ever, and I can't really help it. I'm over it.
It's been only a week, but I already feel like I know everyone here. It's fun, it's lots of fun, but I can't catch it. I can't find myself and simply surf on the wave. It's clubs, cocktails, boys, the sun and the sea... I'm not enjoying it, what's wrong with me? I can't be that easy-going girl, who's always smiling and partying, I... well, I think I just need a good friend here, and there's none. I need someone who would care about me, who would hold my hand as we walk through Paceville. Not these guys who're only interested in getting some weed to smoke. I need something or someone to live for, I need to see the sense, the meaning, but I end up feeling so empty. I need love, show me it!
I could tell you how I was standing on the boat's front and catching the wind, looking at the sunlight going through the dark blue water... or how we spent a night out under the stars, then watched the sunrise and had breakfast at 7 o'clock in a cafe in Sliema...
I need to wake up, to get over it. It's so easy, then why can't I simply do it?
I don't understand, really. Someone, please help me!

P.S.: Curly girl, plz remind me the exact position of the badges kiosk... and write to me more often, it keeps me alive.