In the search to find myself and live in some kind of stable happiness,
I stumbled through the different crowds and behaved as different people. I performed, in a sense, and behaved as those around me.
But deep down, I knew there was no truth behind my transparent life. There was no depth, or purity. There was no form, or backbone.
I found myself alone and stuck in my thoughts with nothing else to contemplate but the choices that led me to a crossroad. I sat down on park bench near W14th Street after a night with a girl I pretended to like. And by pretending, I mean acting as if.
I acted as if her cackling laugh never bothered me. I acted as if I liked her roommates, and as if their long meaningless conversations were interesting to me.
I was new to the single’s scene and I chose to act as if instead of wondering about a girl I knew. I chose to be somewhere rather than go nowhere and consider the last things she said.
“You’ll never be able to take care of me.”
“You’re not going anywhere….you’re not doing anything with your life,” but worse is when she said, “And it’s just not cute anymore.”
The sun was rising and the weekday life of New York City began to stir. I watched as people moved through the streets with their attention focused on where they were going. Everyone seemed to walk quickly in their casual suits and dresses. Everyone had a purpose, and the working world came to life.
As I sank into the thought of what may or may not be true; I watched a man and woman walked through the park.
They both smiled at each other. Their eyes locked as if their love was an unbreakable chain, and the young woman laughed as her other half spoke.
She laughed as if there were nothing else but the love she felt for him, as well as the love he felt for her.
In the first true hours of morning, shafts of sunlight pointed like golden fingers between the buildings of Manhattan’s Lower Westside. I thought about the ability to love and the selflessness, in which I lacked.
I thought about the girl I knew.
I knew her well and for a long stretch of time. However, my ability to be honest or fair was strangled by my inability to think of anyone but me. I was concerned with my own needs and consumed by my fears and insecurities.
I looked at the greener grasses of the houses beside me. I looked at other women and wondered how much better my life would be if they were in it.
At no point did I dare, or extend myself without the thought of getting something in return.
And….If the eyes are truly the window to the soul, then I chose the kindest in order to keep myself safe.
There is a word for reflections like this.
It’s called honesty