I'm guessing that, since all of you reading this are longtime readers and friends of mine, you know already that I am not a fan of expressing my feelings. A lot of me is buried deep in the bubbly packaging that I let most people to see (Yes, I have met people who called me "bubbly" as if being described the same way as a bottle of champagne is a compliment)
A quick catch up with what I've been doing since I last wrote that teary post about someone remarkable:
I came back home. The home that I have left for only one year and yet felt so foreign already. How did I survive 24 years in this city? Everyone is so rude and hateful and weird. I always knew that I love this city; this country. But it does feel like the kind of love in which I was the only lover in the relationship because I got nothing. And yet, somehow, I just keep loving it anyway.
Perhaps it is true what they said: at the touch of love, everyone becomes an idiot.
If there is one thing that I realized about coming home, it is that being away did not really change me. I have always been like this. I have always felt this way about these people. These situations. Being away only made me romanticized it for a whole year. Right when I got back to it, there is nothing so romantic about it.
Work is hard. Friends are lovely. Families are complicated; tricky, but warm. Weekends start at Friday night and are the best times to vent: about the things you could not say, about the bitterness you thought you should not feel. Brain is still your frenemy. Heart is still fickle. Love is nonexistent. Dating is unthinkable. Where do people find the energy for that anyway?
I know I'm only 25--I just feel like I'm so exhausted to carry on with life and all of its dramas all the time.
Feelings are complicated. Can't I just turn it off for once?
Sunday, January 13, 2019
Saturday, January 12, 2019
The Silver Year
This is the story of how a young woman of 25 year old just started to find out where is her place in the world. When everyone around her seems to have found their niche, she is indeed exploring places she has never been before. Bear with her--she is indeed a very fragile person.
First day of The Silver Year started the revolution in her life. A thrilling meeting with her most favorite Dentist at a breakfast place. Meeting a new, Familiar Face while shopping for groceries. A short affair with a Former Wildcat 14 years her senior who stole her first proper kiss, living in a fancy apartment at the Gold Coast neighborhood; had an Aziz Ansari-style bad date, and ghosted him for a week before he asked for closure. This one month alone felt like it lasted a whole year.
February 2018
Experienced Superbowl for the first time. That night, another dramatic moment with drunk Former Wildcat, who still couldn't seem to accept her refusal. Almost cried because of the embarrassment. Secretly traveled by train 4.5 hours away to Ann Arbor just for the Dentist; made her best friend mad because of her disappearance. Met Fuckboi 1, mistaken first date as thrilling as the first one with the Dentist. Fuckboi 1 lives across the street, so she hung out with him quiet a lot. Until...
March 2018
... he ghosted her by late March. She was disappointed; lonely and disarrayed. For a while.
April 2018
Finals weeks are the worst--and indeed, she had to spend her birthday at the library doing a group study for a private equity class. Familiar Face took her for a stroll during the day with Familiar Face's 14-year-old son. She had been lonely all month long, and it was still pretty cold in the city.
May 2018
She had to learn the hard way that she actually makes more bad choices sober than drunk. The Accountant took her most prized possession, something that she will remember forever, though the more that she thought about it... she gave it to him. He just took what he was given. She made it to the end of grad school, reunited with her family in a far away land, and for the first time in her life, she felt like she was enjoying life.
January 2018
First day of The Silver Year started the revolution in her life. A thrilling meeting with her most favorite Dentist at a breakfast place. Meeting a new, Familiar Face while shopping for groceries. A short affair with a Former Wildcat 14 years her senior who stole her first proper kiss, living in a fancy apartment at the Gold Coast neighborhood; had an Aziz Ansari-style bad date, and ghosted him for a week before he asked for closure. This one month alone felt like it lasted a whole year.
February 2018
Experienced Superbowl for the first time. That night, another dramatic moment with drunk Former Wildcat, who still couldn't seem to accept her refusal. Almost cried because of the embarrassment. Secretly traveled by train 4.5 hours away to Ann Arbor just for the Dentist; made her best friend mad because of her disappearance. Met Fuckboi 1, mistaken first date as thrilling as the first one with the Dentist. Fuckboi 1 lives across the street, so she hung out with him quiet a lot. Until...
March 2018
... he ghosted her by late March. She was disappointed; lonely and disarrayed. For a while.
April 2018
Finals weeks are the worst--and indeed, she had to spend her birthday at the library doing a group study for a private equity class. Familiar Face took her for a stroll during the day with Familiar Face's 14-year-old son. She had been lonely all month long, and it was still pretty cold in the city.
May 2018
She had to learn the hard way that she actually makes more bad choices sober than drunk. The Accountant took her most prized possession, something that she will remember forever, though the more that she thought about it... she gave it to him. He just took what he was given. She made it to the end of grad school, reunited with her family in a far away land, and for the first time in her life, she felt like she was enjoying life.
June 2018
True, bar exam prep is tough and grueling, but it didn't stop her from having fun. The Consultant is distracting her, and the Jailbird as well. She went back home for a little while, reconnecting with best friends and their respective babies... Then she realizes that maybe, just maybe, she belongs here. This is her home. Everyone is here. The group of people that makes her feel home, is here.
July 2018
Bar exam. More loneliness. The Consultant was around, and she actually thought this might be it. This is all the love she'd ever got.
August 2018
Fell in love with a cute toddler. Visited Dentist for the last time. Met with and/or lied to Painter. Left Chicago.
September 2018
Readjusting with "home."
October 2018
Readjusting with "career."
November 2018
Readjusting with "adulting."
December 2018
Readjusting with the idea that she romanticized so many things in her life... much to her own detriment.
I'm writing the first draft of this post while overlooking a beautiful snowy mountain, all white and beautiful... clearly entertaining my ever restless 25-year old heart. He was sleeping next to me, probably dreaming little dreams where I took no part in. My heart constantly shifts between expanding and wrenching; this truly has been a roller coaster ride. This entire trip. This entire year.
Friday, August 24, 2018
Strong Feelings, No Hard Feelings
Your name resurfaced after ten days of full radio silence.
You asked if I'm back in Chicago and suddenly talked about how you are going to your war torn home country next month. Ever the unsuspecting person that I am, I did not see this coming.
Did not see that this is how the universe is telling me that No, he is not for you.
"It's my mother's wishes." you said.
"She misses home so much?" A completely reasonable question, until you put it into context and made that question sounds dumb in hindsight.
"She found a girl for me," I read your text and suddenly the air around me was gone. There was a strong jab to my lungs. I could not breathe, "she lives across the street from the house I used to live in. I remember her vaguely, but I know I used to fight... well, argue, with her,"
I remember saying congratulations, then you said you were not all ready for the change that is coming because "the wedding may be within a month or so."
You talked about how you had been fighting it for months--years, even. Talked about how your older brother fought the system 10 years ago and now he's absolutely estranged, "it's like he never exists... so I gave in. I choose to not fight it and be happy."
"I really wanna say I'm sorry," I said, honestly. My eyes were wet with water that came from a well that is probably located very close to the deepest part of me. The part of me that usually feel the hardest truth to be admitted, "but that is not the spirit you should hear right now. So, congratulations. But please know that I'm still so sorry that this is the way it should be for you."
I joked that if you used to argue with her, then that's a good sign of her being rational, smart, and sane. It was a half-joke, of course, but you know that. You liked my 'one of a kind sarcasm,' and that it was something I wrote that brought up the last time we met.
Sorry, I mean the first and last time we met. But it was the last few seconds. While you were wearing your shoes and I could not wait until you leave.
Because perhaps like your future wife, I found you irritating. Disagreeable. God, I hated you so much. And I don't use the word 'hate' too often because it's too strong; too harsh.
But you deserve that.
Because I did have a strong feeling for you. I did feel something was different. I was wrong about who my Jesse Wallace is. It wasn't him. It was more... you.
Do I want to see you again in 10 years?
God, yes. More than anything. I want to see you succeed. I know you can be whoever you think you are right now (and I do think you think highly of yourself). I want to surprise you after a press conference of your world book tour. I want to take you to my favorite coffee shop and talk (again) about how I have tried to do the meaningful work that I told you I'd been dying to do, only to find that I may have the capability, but not the ego to do it.
Do I want you to stay with me forever and have twin girls together?
God, yes. Yes. A resounding yes.
Do I want to find myself at an airport with you, sending your son back to his mother after spending the summer with us?
No. Never. I would NEVER wish you'd leave your wife, for whatever reason, unless you really have to. Jesse did not leave his wife for Celine, yes, but he had to go through a marriage that he was unhappy in. He had to endure a life with someone he couldn't care less about, and put his son through all the suffering.
I would never want anything bad to happen to you. Or your wife. Or anyone you cared about.
My only wish is for you to find happiness. To find love. To find whatever it is that you've been looking for.
Because you may took something from me; but I gave it to you, and not once have I ever regretted that.
You asked if I'm back in Chicago and suddenly talked about how you are going to your war torn home country next month. Ever the unsuspecting person that I am, I did not see this coming.
Did not see that this is how the universe is telling me that No, he is not for you.
"It's my mother's wishes." you said.
"She misses home so much?" A completely reasonable question, until you put it into context and made that question sounds dumb in hindsight.
"She found a girl for me," I read your text and suddenly the air around me was gone. There was a strong jab to my lungs. I could not breathe, "she lives across the street from the house I used to live in. I remember her vaguely, but I know I used to fight... well, argue, with her,"
I remember saying congratulations, then you said you were not all ready for the change that is coming because "the wedding may be within a month or so."
You talked about how you had been fighting it for months--years, even. Talked about how your older brother fought the system 10 years ago and now he's absolutely estranged, "it's like he never exists... so I gave in. I choose to not fight it and be happy."
"I really wanna say I'm sorry," I said, honestly. My eyes were wet with water that came from a well that is probably located very close to the deepest part of me. The part of me that usually feel the hardest truth to be admitted, "but that is not the spirit you should hear right now. So, congratulations. But please know that I'm still so sorry that this is the way it should be for you."
I joked that if you used to argue with her, then that's a good sign of her being rational, smart, and sane. It was a half-joke, of course, but you know that. You liked my 'one of a kind sarcasm,' and that it was something I wrote that brought up the last time we met.
Sorry, I mean the first and last time we met. But it was the last few seconds. While you were wearing your shoes and I could not wait until you leave.
Because perhaps like your future wife, I found you irritating. Disagreeable. God, I hated you so much. And I don't use the word 'hate' too often because it's too strong; too harsh.
But you deserve that.
Because I did have a strong feeling for you. I did feel something was different. I was wrong about who my Jesse Wallace is. It wasn't him. It was more... you.
Do I want to see you again in 10 years?
God, yes. More than anything. I want to see you succeed. I know you can be whoever you think you are right now (and I do think you think highly of yourself). I want to surprise you after a press conference of your world book tour. I want to take you to my favorite coffee shop and talk (again) about how I have tried to do the meaningful work that I told you I'd been dying to do, only to find that I may have the capability, but not the ego to do it.
Do I want you to stay with me forever and have twin girls together?
God, yes. Yes. A resounding yes.
Do I want to find myself at an airport with you, sending your son back to his mother after spending the summer with us?
No. Never. I would NEVER wish you'd leave your wife, for whatever reason, unless you really have to. Jesse did not leave his wife for Celine, yes, but he had to go through a marriage that he was unhappy in. He had to endure a life with someone he couldn't care less about, and put his son through all the suffering.
I would never want anything bad to happen to you. Or your wife. Or anyone you cared about.
My only wish is for you to find happiness. To find love. To find whatever it is that you've been looking for.
Because you may took something from me; but I gave it to you, and not once have I ever regretted that.
Saturday, August 4, 2018
A Reflection, One Hour Later
Will I tell my grandchildren about you? Probably.
They need to learn that they should not have to travel for 5 hours just to get a boy's attention.
They need to learn that we accept the love we think we deserve; and their grandmother was once a fool for thinking that she deserved a love where she's the sole fighter trying to work things out with someone who merely wish for it.
Did I love you? Yes.
I may not know what love is, so I might be wrong.
But is there anyone else whose silent company I enjoy more? Is there anyone else whose fault I overlooked so much, that if it was another person I'd kill him? No.
Did I regret everything that I did for you? All that train rides, bus stops, chocolates, tears, sleepless nights? No.
You're worth it. And even if you're not, what you left me with, is.
They need to learn that they should not have to travel for 5 hours just to get a boy's attention.
They need to learn that we accept the love we think we deserve; and their grandmother was once a fool for thinking that she deserved a love where she's the sole fighter trying to work things out with someone who merely wish for it.
Did I love you? Yes.
I may not know what love is, so I might be wrong.
But is there anyone else whose silent company I enjoy more? Is there anyone else whose fault I overlooked so much, that if it was another person I'd kill him? No.
Did I regret everything that I did for you? All that train rides, bus stops, chocolates, tears, sleepless nights? No.
You're worth it. And even if you're not, what you left me with, is.
The Good Bye
I can't believe that here we are now.
The point that I always talked about when we first met. The very point that I always knew was coming, but never really thought of how imminent it is. Until now.
Until we said our good bye. Until we hold our last hug. Until we exchanged our last smile.
I always knew you were a lesson, not a blessing. Always knew that everything about us was temporary.
Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt when it comes the time for you to be my past.
To talk about you in past tense.
To keep you in my memory as a fragment of the past.
A fragment that I may or may not carry with me fifty, sixty years from now.
Because in spite of everything that happened in between; in spite of how my mind is always telling me something it deliberately assumes about you without ever actually talking to you... I always knew that everyone else was just a replacement of you.
A temporary replacement.
So temporary, in fact, that even when they should be the back up... Eventually you are the back up of them. Eventually, I ran back to you.
I know things changed.
I know that even six months ago, you weren't in that place anymore. My fickle mind, however, had just caught up and reached that place when it realized what it's missing.
It's late. I feel cold. Sad and broken at the same time. I'm afraid I'd never see you again. You tried to fill me with hope, but the precedents are not on your side and I can't live on hope. Enough of that from you for a lifetime.
The point that I always talked about when we first met. The very point that I always knew was coming, but never really thought of how imminent it is. Until now.
Until we said our good bye. Until we hold our last hug. Until we exchanged our last smile.
I always knew you were a lesson, not a blessing. Always knew that everything about us was temporary.
Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt when it comes the time for you to be my past.
To talk about you in past tense.
To keep you in my memory as a fragment of the past.
A fragment that I may or may not carry with me fifty, sixty years from now.
Because in spite of everything that happened in between; in spite of how my mind is always telling me something it deliberately assumes about you without ever actually talking to you... I always knew that everyone else was just a replacement of you.
A temporary replacement.
So temporary, in fact, that even when they should be the back up... Eventually you are the back up of them. Eventually, I ran back to you.
I know things changed.
I know that even six months ago, you weren't in that place anymore. My fickle mind, however, had just caught up and reached that place when it realized what it's missing.
It's late. I feel cold. Sad and broken at the same time. I'm afraid I'd never see you again. You tried to fill me with hope, but the precedents are not on your side and I can't live on hope. Enough of that from you for a lifetime.
A2, MI, USA
Aug 4th, 2018
Wednesday, June 6, 2018
We Can Live Like Jesse and Celine If You Want
He's your age; perhaps younger by a few months. His confidence? He literally referred to Deadpool 2's character whose superpower was: luck. He speaks with an accent that sounds like yours, if not better. His voice was rather more soothing than your deep, rough, bass-y voice. Like you, he's not the tallest guy in the world. He was probably only an inch taller than me—I definitely could beat him if I weren't wearing flat sandals that day. Unlike you, though, he looks like a replica of the photographer Francesco Carrozzini. Dirty blond with blue eyes and tan, sun-kissed skin, he had on a bright orange-red jacket and sneakers with a white shirt and jeans. I'm guessing unlike you, he wasn't a mathlete.
He speaks a bunch of other languages like you. Also like you, he traveled a lot. He told me about the cities he has been, and his senior year of high school in Boston. He's street and book smart about politics, macroeconomics, and international policy. He knows what is going on in not just Europe but beyond that. He talks about the EU's central bank systems and compared it with an Argentinian policy. He is pro-Palestine, pro-choice, and supports LGBT rights without question. He's confused about how people say a Middle Eastern ultra-conservative country is undergoing a revolution brought to the country by a high profile prince who probably killed all of his cousins to get to where he is. He calls Jared Kushner the quintessential bad guy and refused to move to the States while Trump is president even though he is a citizen.
Like you, he also talks about the mafioso culture of Southern Italy—but because he's from Sicily, he did not make a single joke about it. So, pretty much unlike you.
Perhaps also like you, he's a decent skier. I got sad though when I think about because... I didn't know that about you. I didn't know if you ski. I didn't know if... if you and I, we'll be deep into such interesting discussion like I had with him. Will we? Ever?
He and I agreed on several things—except for my love for this city, that apparently he did not share.
That day, Navy Pier was our Vienna. He was almost definitely a Jesse, and I, the Celine. Theoretically it should be Before Sunset, but, it did feel more like Before Sunrise.
What was it that I've said about you before? Anyone would be perfect in a short period of time.
You had been perfect because we only met for 10 days. So he was obviously perfect because I only knew him for 2 hours.
I could get lost in his big blue eyes if only time had let me swim in it longer. I tried to, but his brown Aviator-style sunglasses let me see more of my own reflection than the bright blue windows to his heart.
I could get lost in his big blue eyes if only time had let me swim in it longer. I tried to, but his brown Aviator-style sunglasses let me see more of my own reflection than the bright blue windows to his heart.
Mathlete, did you remember? We were 10 years younger back then. We didn't know how the world is supposed to work. So when we parted ways, it was just that. A simple good bye and a little wave of hand. Fast forward 10 years later... it's a little better.
A great day that ended in horrible post-midnight texts. Then awkward silence. Then both of us trying to end this in a mature way. Acknowledging that it is the best possible alternative to how this should end.
But I guess at least this time I can say that I tried. I guess this time I wouldn't have to keep on wondering what if for the next 10 years.
I guess this time, I can peacefully live with myself.
Saturday, May 26, 2018
Quarter Life Crisis - One Month Later
The first month following my 25th anniversary has been nothing but rough. I don't think I have ever hated and been proud of myself at the same time more than I do now.
It's weird (like everything else in life when you're in your 20s, I'm afraid). How come no one ever told me it was gonna be like this?
Honestly, I never quiet understood what "quarter life crisis" actually entails. Is it an emotional situation so bad that you want to rip your heart out every time you let yourself think about it? But I thought that was teenage angst--because if there's any advice soothing enough for me right now, it would be this:
That advice was given to Elio by his charming father in Call Me By Your Name. But Elio is a 17 year old gay kid who had a wonderful encounter with the strikingly handsome Oliver in a beautiful Italian countryside--not a 25 year old straight young woman in a cold Midwestern city struggling with the way things turned out to be for her. Elio's fear feels legit. My fear?
What do I tell my kids about all of these things?
I'm no Eliza Schuyler. I do want a legacy. For my kids. For little Shirley and Audrey who take ballet lessons after school. For their kids who will call me Nana. For my adopted son who was born out of wedlock by some couple who cannot afford childcare but were too scared to find an abortion clinic.
What do I tell them about how I lived my life?
There's just too many feelings--these days it feels a lot like reoccurring episode than just "an episode." I feel suffocated sometimes, because... feelings can be too much.
It's a mix of joy and pride, but mostly fear. Fear of whether I did the right thing. Fear of whether or not it is right that I'm proud about it. Fear of whether or not I should feel regret--because I don't regret any of it. Fear of... living with myself in the years to come. What kind of person will I turn out to be? Is this the real me? Is it not? Am I a monster?
I have so many questions. So many doubts.
Isn't it all the problems reserved for teenagers? Because this part of the monologue sounds awfully familiar to 16-year-old me:
It's weird (like everything else in life when you're in your 20s, I'm afraid). How come no one ever told me it was gonna be like this?
Honestly, I never quiet understood what "quarter life crisis" actually entails. Is it an emotional situation so bad that you want to rip your heart out every time you let yourself think about it? But I thought that was teenage angst--because if there's any advice soothing enough for me right now, it would be this:
That advice was given to Elio by his charming father in Call Me By Your Name. But Elio is a 17 year old gay kid who had a wonderful encounter with the strikingly handsome Oliver in a beautiful Italian countryside--not a 25 year old straight young woman in a cold Midwestern city struggling with the way things turned out to be for her. Elio's fear feels legit. My fear?
What do I tell my kids about all of these things?
I'm no Eliza Schuyler. I do want a legacy. For my kids. For little Shirley and Audrey who take ballet lessons after school. For their kids who will call me Nana. For my adopted son who was born out of wedlock by some couple who cannot afford childcare but were too scared to find an abortion clinic.
What do I tell them about how I lived my life?
There's just too many feelings--these days it feels a lot like reoccurring episode than just "an episode." I feel suffocated sometimes, because... feelings can be too much.
It's a mix of joy and pride, but mostly fear. Fear of whether I did the right thing. Fear of whether or not it is right that I'm proud about it. Fear of whether or not I should feel regret--because I don't regret any of it. Fear of... living with myself in the years to come. What kind of person will I turn out to be? Is this the real me? Is it not? Am I a monster?
I have so many questions. So many doubts.
Isn't it all the problems reserved for teenagers? Because this part of the monologue sounds awfully familiar to 16-year-old me:
Thursday, May 3, 2018
The Morning After
When he said he was coming, she thought he was somewhere nearby. One Uber ride away, perhaps, or close enough that if she could see a dog-shaped cloud in the sky, he would see the same thing. Turns out, he had been driving an hour away from a neighboring town, straight after work, cancelled dinner appointment with someone he referred to as his boss, just to see someone he'd never laid his eyes on.
Her.
He went through a great pain looking for the coffee house that they agreed on that he went into the wrong spot and had to take Uber to come to her. He was dressed in a tweed suit and flat newspaper boy cap as if they were not in a scorching big American city. In contrast, she was dressed like a quintessential student: crisp white t-shirt, jeans and a black ballet flats plus The New Yorker tote bag for lifting up intelligent spirit.
They were of the same height; and later that night, after a quick peek at her ID, he found out that that she's a few months older than him. She knew from the moment they started talking that he was not the replacement for The Disappeared. She knew that it was no longer healthy to keep on remembering herself how The Disappeared made her feel during their first encounter; and yet she couldn't help it. She still hoped she did not have to find a replacement for The Disappeared... But the world rarely goes the way she wants it to be, and this time was no exception.
After a quick, chardonnay-filled Italian dinner and a comedy show, she finally felt beat. He had been a gentleman the whole day--at least in the 7 hours that they have spent together. She knew he was no The Disappeared. He's probably better--at this point, whatever she thought about The Disappeared was probably a romanticized version of what actually happened. She's biased. She felt pathetic for feeling biased for someone who has disappeared, but again, the world rarely goes the way she wants it to be, and this time was, of course, no exception.
He would have to drive four hours away but since he was not feeling well after all the drinks they had, she invited him to stop by her place. She was almost drunk, but then again so was he--almost. He said he'd get a hotel room or just sit on the couch, and they got a Lyft ride soon.
****
Later that evening, after a tough, grueling cramming towards the end of exams at the library all day, she went to a pharmacy. The same pharmacy that she just went to with him earlier this morning; during the last few minutes before the split seconds that changed her life forever. The same pharmacy where he looked at her as if she was Venus and he Adonis, and he said, "I'm gonna pick up something that I forgot to have last night."
She knew that moment was coming; she was just too naive to think she was too smart for it.
"Hey, you were here too this morning, right?" asked a lady behind the cashier, whom she remembers helped him picked up a new phone charger earlier. The lady also helped him during check out, and from her smile, she knew that this lady must have remembered what he bought. After all, it wasn't such a common purchase for a Wednesday at 7:30.
She just smiled. The lady looked at what she was buying: a soft lavender box with the words "Plan B" emblazoned on it. The lady smiled at her -- a much more kind and gentle smile this time -- and said:"You'll be fine, girl."
She knew that moment was coming; she was just too naive to think she was too smart for it.
"Hey, you were here too this morning, right?" asked a lady behind the cashier, whom she remembers helped him picked up a new phone charger earlier. The lady also helped him during check out, and from her smile, she knew that this lady must have remembered what he bought. After all, it wasn't such a common purchase for a Wednesday at 7:30.
She just smiled. The lady looked at what she was buying: a soft lavender box with the words "Plan B" emblazoned on it. The lady smiled at her -- a much more kind and gentle smile this time -- and said:"You'll be fine, girl."
Saturday, April 7, 2018
If you gotta go, go now
One half of me believes that you'd stay.
It believes that you care about me.
That you're in it; both of your feet in the boat and you're ready to sail.
That of course you meant everything you said; because words have meaning.
Another half of me just can't wait for you to go.
It's hanging by a thread, knowing that it'll happen eventually.
That you'll leave; you have one foot out of the boat already.
That you never meant anything you said; because lies just sound better and that's all they were.
A Love Affair
Another item on my bucket list just ticked off. I now can proudly announce that I've done solo traveling before I turn 25 and it was truly a love affair to me since this is exactly my favorite city in the world: New York City.
I've traveled alone before, but usually it's either for business or my partner makes me feel alone (yep, things just get sad quickly around here). Never before I have the chance to be alone in a great city that becomes home to millions of people and yet, all the time that I was there, I never felt lonely.
When you travel solo, you are literally alone. No one knows your name. No one knows what you are actually doing and why. You are free to shape your own image, create your own story, make your own decisions (either it's only about what to eat for dinner or what you're gonna do in a cold, dark, night). You are only where you want to be; when you want to be, and how you want it to be. Depending on how you see it, the world either doesn't exist to you (it's all you!) or you don't exist to the world.
I've traveled alone before, but usually it's either for business or my partner makes me feel alone (yep, things just get sad quickly around here). Never before I have the chance to be alone in a great city that becomes home to millions of people and yet, all the time that I was there, I never felt lonely.
When you travel solo, you are literally alone. No one knows your name. No one knows what you are actually doing and why. You are free to shape your own image, create your own story, make your own decisions (either it's only about what to eat for dinner or what you're gonna do in a cold, dark, night). You are only where you want to be; when you want to be, and how you want it to be. Depending on how you see it, the world either doesn't exist to you (it's all you!) or you don't exist to the world.
You are completely on your own, and let's face it: when do you think was the last time you are so far, so independent, from any label attached to you? Probably never before.
I have never feel more liberated than I ever did the whole time I was there. I could choose where I want to be. I could be in bed at 8 pm in my hotel room, or I could be in a stranger's bed in Astoria, having sex with someone I'd never have to care about ever again in my life.
It could've been anything. Nothing, and no one, was stopping me.
And New York--there's no better place to be alone than New York. You've heard countless stories about it. The lonely, the distraught, the drunks, the drug addicts, the workaholics, the shamed sluts... you've heard it all. You can see yourself in that woman sitting next to you at the subway station, or the little boy standing alone holding on to his science project inside the train. You can see yourself in the hard-working construction worker who never stopped shouting. You can see yourself in virtually everyone you meet--or even see--in the street. It's a bowl with millions of people looking for... oh, who knows?
Maybe that's the reason why people love New York.
If you could see yourself in almost every single person you encounter, you'd never feel so alone in the world.
If you could see yourself that you're no alone in the world--that someone is having a day as hard as you, a life as tough as yours, a future that you're not sure yet but willing to work for... you're not going to feel like the world is falling apart and everything is going against you.
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