My writing would be a lot more interesting if I was honest.
I haven’t shared anything I’ve written recently, and that’s because everything I write is too honest to expose. I have no motivation to exploit my truth because I genuinely don’t want attention. I want to be left alone, mostly. Not in a depressing way — I’ve just been avoidant, busy, and going to concerts. I’ve been living in my own little world and having fun with my friends. I started playing electric guitar. And I stopped posting on my Instagram, which has been lovely. I haven’t been replying to texts in a timely fashion either, but that’s nothing new.
But two things can be true at the same time.
If I were fully honest in this forum, it would be embarrassing. Because the truth of my life is somewhat embarrassing. Maybe that’s true for everyone, but I wouldn’t know because we all keep our own secrets.
I haven’t been writing that much, I think I am hiding from my own thoughts. I’m trying to forget a lot of things that I keep re-remembering. And when I remember, I actively cringe. I spend a lot of time laying on my green couch, listening to my record player and staring at the ceiling. And I recently made a playlist titled “Internally screaming playlist” for everyday use. It’s a good life.
Life is weird because I think I’m having a crisis, but I’m also happy most days. I go out with my friends and I listen to good music and buy expensive soap just because I want to. And I go on beautiful vacations. And I laugh a lot and smile and meet new people.
But these days, I feel like I know nothing about real life. As if I don’t understand how the world works, but somehow everyone else does. And maybe if I listen to another podcast or go to another workout class or go on another trip, I can avoid the fact that I feel so lost.
I work so hard to be successful, attractive, and smart. And I have a savings account and I have a good job and I have passions and friends. I workout every day. I am a good conversationalist. And I have fun! I promise, I really do.
But I still feel so separate from the world. Like I can see it, but I can’t touch it. I can’t fully enjoy it.
As if the fun I have is only “half-fun.” And I’m happy, but only “half-happy.”
And you know how that feels in my head? It feels like a frequency wave that barely moves. The highs and lows are not very far apart. Sometimes I crave a frequency wave with big swings, but then I remember that the highest high has an equal and opposite low. So I control the wave, keeping it in a small, safe pattern.
That’s where I stand right now. Happy in the present, but wanting more. And constantly tortured by embarrassing moments of the past.
Oh — and I keep running into people I know. It’s as if (after 8 years in New York) suddenly I know everyone because I run into someone on a random street every single day. And not just anyone — the people I WOULD run into.
The longer I live in New York, the more I evolve into adulthood. That’s great and all — but I live in a graveyard of my own coming-of-age embarrassment. A few weeks ago, as I walked around the city, I remembered some of the landmarks where I had embarrassing (or honestly just bad) moments over the past eight years. So I wrote them down to try and make light of the situation.
In no particular order:
The Citi Bike rack at Hudson and Barrow Street
The rooftop bar at Hotel Hugo
The 1 train (going uptown)
Outside Wilfie & Nell in the West Village
The center of the roundabout in Columbus Circle
Anywhere within two blocks of the Brooklyn Bridge City Hall stop on the 4/5/6
The bar at Buvette
A random apartment rooftop on Canal Street
The Citi Bike rack on Perry Street
At the corner of Liberty and West Street
The southern stretch of the West Side Highway
Washington Square Park on a bench
Equinox Rockefeller Center
Central Park by the kickball field
The Jane Hotel (before they shut it down)
Wagner Park
Tribeca Whole Foods
Park Slope (various locations)
Soho House at the 6th floor bar
Walking between Due West and The Happiest Hour.
…I could go on but I can’t bear it…
So. Basically everywhere I go and everywhere I look. And just last week I added 10th St and Washington to that list.
I can’t tell you what happened at these places because that would just rehash the embarrassment part. So you’ll just have to imagine it.
I think I need to move.