I haven't felt it in a while. That urgent pang in the bottom of my heart. A deep desire to go home and hide. But the problem remains, I don't like anywhere is home.
As I wait for the results on an apartment application, I hope this new place will be the place my mind conjures up when I just need to hide from the world for a while, regain my composure, inhale without an audience. These are the desires that make me question whether NYC is really the place for me. I haven't learned how to close my eyes and block out all those people when I need to, I haven't learned how to cry on a crowded subway car. And as the man at the closed book store said, I'm too nice to be a New Yorker. But then again maybe my generation of New Yorker's are nicer.
As I wait for the results on an apartment application, I hope this new place will be the place my mind conjures up when I just need to hide from the world for a while, regain my composure, inhale without an audience. These are the desires that make me question whether NYC is really the place for me. I haven't learned how to close my eyes and block out all those people when I need to, I haven't learned how to cry on a crowded subway car. And as the man at the closed book store said, I'm too nice to be a New Yorker. But then again maybe my generation of New Yorker's are nicer.
Then you go to Queens, or Brooklyn, or even walk out along the piers on the West Side Highway and you look back at the glowing skyline, reaching up and conquering the stars. You pick out the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building, the UN, the gap in the skyline where you know Times Square hides. And it hits you, 'I live here'. I live in this crazy city. People all over the world dream, love, hate, visit and fantasize about this place, but I get to live here. And according to some one's set of rules, I'm making it.
As the day comes to a close, the sun sinks and Broadway turns up it's lights, you seek a way to pass the time in a new bar. And in the most unlikely of places, on that smooth white brick just above the toilet bowl, you find your answer.
As the day comes to a close, the sun sinks and Broadway turns up it's lights, you seek a way to pass the time in a new bar. And in the most unlikely of places, on that smooth white brick just above the toilet bowl, you find your answer.
It doesn't really matter where you are, but this place is home.
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