Thursday, May 24, 2012

[bad] on running

She pulled the Death card. A skeleton rider on a black horse.

You're not going to die, she said.
But I am, I said; I'm am.

It's all falling apart. I am the shovel, not the glue.

So this is me, currently looking for one bedroom apartments on my own. Battling the beast of solitary living for the first time ever. I can't say I don't fear my own unreliability. 

Getting out of the suburbs is the first step. I'm 26 going on 36 here. Itching and dying and trapped. No picket fence, no shiny relationship, no pet, no child/sister. Tell me why I'm here.

But this is me searching for jobs across the country. Brooklyn, Chicago, DC, San Diego, Seattle. Close your eyes, spin three times, pin a tack anywhere on the map. I'll do the rest, promise.

Sometimes I think leaving NY was the worst decision I ever made. So go back, they say. 
But what if it's like putting on a snow soaked coat after you've been sitting by the fire all day? At least we'll be cold together, they say. A together I don't have here.

If you're not running towards something you're running away from something else.

So ask me to stay.
Ask me to come.
Or ask to come with me.
My lease ends mid summer skin.