I’ve laundry in the dryer right now. I’m signing a lease on an apartment tomorrow. I’ve got to stop chasing that intrepid Cheryl Strayed version of myself and be unsexy. Pay down my loans. Figure out a way to tell people what I mean. Be alone with the worst possible person to be alone with, my own damn self.
I mean, y’all, I broke up with my girlfriend (and fiancee) of four years. I graduated school. I sold all my shit. My aunt died. I flung my body into space on a whim I’ve always wanted to take and found a bunch of really cool spaces along the way. And y’all just let me go! You let me haul my 24 year old ass around a few places and be extra weird! What good friends! What good fellow weirdos, never once stopping to say, “hey, crazy pants, you gonna be alright?”
Because I was and I am and you never stopped making sure I didn’t rot away in the Gowanus canal.
I’m not done. We are never finished. We must, however, find the sustainable. I must.
I’m going to keep writing here. I like it, and maybe I’ll even try to be funny.
I will keep moving. All forward motion counts. But the nature of the move must evolve. We crawl before we walk and sometimes we stumble and hit our heads on the pavement of OTR because we were texting and not paying attention and that person you were texting doesn’t even know and you get back up and keep walking. I realize I switched pronoun cases midway but I ain’t going back and neither should you.
Roots are designed to soak up water. Water is life. It’s time to be the unsexy version of me, to be practical and disciplined. But actually, I’m a lame weirdo who wants to dance pantless in my own lame weird living room.
I want to be alone in a city that I deeply love. I want to be alone in a city filled with faces I deeply cherish.
I’m trying to find a warm spot to sun my metaphorical lizard skin and figure out what’s next. This feels right, right now.
My laundry might be done. What you don’t know is this is my third draft. I can’t find the exact thing I want to say, but this is a good place to start. Maybe you saw this coming. In which case, good on you, Cassandra. Manifest me a kitchen table and some plates while you’re at it.
I’m starting from a material zero and I’m so damn excited.
That’s all I wanted to tell you. I’ll be here for a while.
I love you. I miss you (I’m so glad I have you). I hope to see you soon.