old friends

i think there's ice falling from the sky. it's cracking against the glass in fragments.

i miss him. i miss him so much. this is already hard enough--a hundred. what happens when it's a thousand? if i could, i think i'd i'd skip all this, the imminent separation, the difficulty. "ten years from now. you and me, our own place." i want sunday mornings. sun filtering through the blinds and drawing patterns on his skin. falling asleep on the couch together after long days at work. coming home to him. that's it. that's all.

just give me that someday. please.

the trees looked nice from the windows--tufts of gold and ruby splayed across the landscape. part of me wishes i wasn't alone and that this wasn't just a layover. i've never been to north carolina before, and it seems a shame that the only thing i'll get to experience is the airport. i'll take comfort in knowing i can someday return--i've heard the beaches are lovely.

beyond that, i'm exhausted. i didn't sleep at all last night. what with mom surprising me with this sudden flight and my uneasiness about leaving new york, i was restless. i always get jittery before going to the airport and flying, though. i have horrible nerves when it comes to airports.

i'm excited to be home. there's peace that comes with it. it's not going to be easy, and i know this. i'll be working just as hard as i was in new york. but at least, at home, i'll be with people who i know love and care for me. thanksgiving will feel like thanksgiving and christmas will feel like christmas. i'll see the oil-paint sunsets and stars in the dead of night. texas air is different, somehow.

the plane is pulling up to the gate now. i've always wondered: how does the luggage system work? it'd be so easy to lose a passenger's luggage between flights. (that's something else i'm nervous about--i forgot to put my jewelry in my carry-on.) also, why do other airlines keep buying out other airlines? it seems like everything's merging in one way or another.

my thoughts are all over the place, and this post is the farthest thing from poetic. i'm just tired. i'm always tired.

hello there. i'm sitting in my bed with a lukewarm cup of coffee i bought from the starbucks on the corner of worth. the city skyline is staring at me through my window; it's just woken up after a long night of being bathed in the deepest shade of purple. there aren't any stars here--i think that's what alarmed me the most when i first arrived.

i thought i'd miss nothing of home except for the feeling of my mother's hugs and the bluebonnets in the spring. now i'm going back to them. i think i've been defeated by myself. i worked so hard to get here and i'm leaving. not permanently, because part of me will always belong to these skyscrapers. i left a piece of my heart on park avenue, and a piece of my soul rests in the eyes of the marble woman resting on the chaise longue in the met.

but i need to go home. i've spent too many years of my life hating someone who's dying even faster, now.

i want to be myself again. i want to find the girl who got lost somewhere between the sunburst-drenched hospital room and that park in cinnamenson. she's clawing at the insides of my skin, she's constantly beating her fists against my heart. my chest clenches often because i know she's there. she's been buried for too long underneath all this darkness.

if you're preparing to rip away the parts of yourself that have grown from nothing but sadness, is it okay to be afraid?