I don’t know what to think anymore, sometimes. I’m unsure where my life is headed. I feel like the days are passing me by and I’m not noticing many of them, time is leaving me behind. I will not be forgotten. How many times must I be knocked down before I find my footing, find my way? Vague directions, vague plans, and everytime I finally think things are settling and I’m finding a rhythm, a new variable is introduced. And every time, without fail, that variable throws me off-kilter once more.
I need to see my city, I need to breathe again. I need to see you. I miss you, more than words can say, every day. New York, you call my name, you and everything you hold.
This town is killing my spirit. Sometimes I feel like I’m over-dramatizing when I talk about Colorado, but it’s true. The days go by and I forget the bigger life because forgetting is easier than remembering. I forget who I was, who I am, because the pain of absence is still so fresh. There is nothing else in this world that makes my heart leap so much as seeing that Manhattan skyline — in films, photographs, anywhere I can find it. I have never seared anything into my memory so clearly as I have the appearance of New York City, never mapped anything so firmly into my conscious as those streets. I close my eyes in dark moments and there’s a shining city behind my eyelids, tracing and retracing every step I ever took. It seems like another lifetime, a reverie, and I want it back so badly I could die for it. Every personality it holds, every memory, every sound.
It won’t be long now.