So, 2017 was a mixed bag for me. Appropriately, I spent the last month of it hiding away in the shadows. My situation was dire. I mean, when I cried ordering a coffee from my barista at 5 am for the third day in a row, I acknowledged that there was considerable room for improvement in ‘dealing’ and that a ban was forthcoming if I didn’t stop making coffee super weird. Yeah, I have been a bit of an undisciplined dumpster fire of emotions lately. And the lit celebration this holiday season only seemed to amplify the palpable ache in my heart – one unyielding even to the strongest of wills – and it sunk me to familiar depths and rendered me defenseless to unrelenting despair.
Category: new york city
So, I am sitting in a coffee shop in Greenwich Village, New York, and I don’t know for sure what I want to write, so I am just going to start spewing out some words and hope that, in the end, they make sense. If they don’t, well, I am sitting in a coffee shop in New York City, writing, and I consider that in itself enough.
Unquestionably, this city takes up the vast majority of my heart, for reasons even I don’t understand – so don’t bother asking me why I love it so much, I just do. Pretty sure, though, that I was born with NYC blood pumping through my veins. I am adopted, so it is completely reasonable to think that my birth mother shagged some guy named Bobby from FDNY Ladder 69 – nobody really knows the story of my conception, so who’s to say it’s not true.