Pretty Little Liars

It's late. I'm sitting up, thinking about stuff. I haven't slept much over the past week. I guess I have too much time on my hands, no direction, nothing to keep me occupied, keep me busy. I literally have nothing I need to get done, and the problem with that is that I can't do anything I want, either. I feel no contentment or satisfaction from reading, exploring, doing. It's worse than the despair and resentment I was feeling a week ago. At least then I was busy, trying to untie my knots.

I'm headed West. The big, bad city turned out to be too much for me. It denied me an opportunity to support myself, and I decided that the fight wasn't worth it. I had a short-term goal, here until April, and it's not worth it to me to stay in this place that doesn't get me off and sell my soul, rack up debt and try and work through my separation anxiety from clean air and water, for such a short commitment. That's what I'm trying to convince myself. But everyday since I booked that flight back to Washington, something amazing has happened, from meeting Dakota Fanning to being offered a job (guess American Apparel doesn't have a policy about showering often) to discovering I have actually made a really good, true friend.

Maybe I jumped the gun. Maybe I had Week 7 cold feet and hit the Buy button too soon. Or maybe my reasoning isn't off, and whatever path I choose is the right path, and I need to learn to go with it, to learn from what I've done and to look forward.

I moved here with $350 in my pocket and two phone numbers scribbled on the back of an envelope. The money is all gone, and the numbers never called me back. But I learned something really important. I learned what I value. I got to experience unconditional love from someone other than my parents, and I learned that I totally reciprocate that love. I learned that New York is a place of legend and lore, that it is what I make of it, and it will always be here, with its fish markets and bright lights, if I should ever need it.