UWS

My dearest, you might be my only link to sanity and I'm about to leave you too. Every few weeks my home changes to a new subway stop and I think I want to cry. I think I'm happy, am I shaking now? Is this living? Between the thoughts of telling you I'm not coming to you via an internet screen and plunging into yet another fairy, I can't seem to figure out what is real. I don't know if I'm dreaming or awake.

She asked me in her car if "it was worth it?" Well it's hard. Everyday is hard. Is that worth it?

I just sit on the floor and wonder if people or experiences are what I'm living for. Maybe it's both. Everyone else seems to hold on while I just let go. And let go. And let go. And let GO. "Hello, nice to meet you, I love you, now I feel it's time to go." A few linger in my mind longer than others but then my head starts physically moving forward and everything and I mean everything tangible gets left BEHIND.

I sit in the kitchen of the apartment with the balcony overlooking Central Park with a beautiful girl born with no running water and watch her connect with a GRINNING child who loves her like she is his very own being. I have never been more intimidated in my life as I have felt in NEW YORK CITY and I'm supposed to rise every morning. Nothing you are or have done or have struggled though is more than those of the faces who stare at you on the subway and trains Every. Single. Day. You are not remarkable here.

I don't know who I am. What did I used to be? I thought I was remarkable.

From pull-out couches and $40 dollars to my name to house keepers and apartments on the Upper West Side. My head does not slow down because my feet never can. Sleeping is a luxury, and one I do not get to indulge in often.

What will I be when I leave here?

I went from Googling Shakespeare to anti-fatigue tips.