June 2012
“Every widow wakes one morning, perhaps after years of pure and unwavering grieving, to realize she slept a good night’s sleep, and will be able to eat breakfast, and doesn’t hear her husband’s ghost all the time, but only some of the time. Her grief is replaced with a useful sadness. Every parent who loses a child finds a way to laugh again. The timbre begins to fade. The edge dulls. The hurt lessens. Every love is carved from loss. Mine was. Yours is. Your great-great-great-grandchildren’s will be. But we learn to live in that love.”
—Jonathan Safran Foer
Far more frequently and much less in between, I am beginning to realize all over again how much I despise my hometown. Don’t get me wrong, the friends I have here (my real friends, the ones who’ve been here for me through all this bullshit), are amazing and I love them to death. But everyone else just encompasses this superior level of superficiality, just being in this environment is driving me insane. Again. I know I won’t be able to handle more than 2 more months here, let alone another year. This place sucks. I miss New York. I’m sad as hell and I know I don’t belong here. I don’t even know what to do anymore. I’m sick of pretending that everything is okay when its so obviously not. fuck everything man, I just wanna be back in the city :(
“It was a marvelous night, the sort of night one only experiences when one is young. The sky was so bright, and there were so many stars that, gazing upward, one couldn’t help wondering how so many whimsical, wicked people could live under such a sky.”
—Fyodor Dostoyevsky, White Nights
