I see you. I see you as clear as the reflection I see in the mirror.
I also see you as clearly as I see the inaccuracies which reflect in the mirror.
If that makes any sense, which I think it does.
Or at least, I believe this makes sense to people like us.

And you can hide all you want to. You can run.
Or you can try. You can sneak away and avert your eyes and act as if this doesn’t exist,
but the idea of faking it until you make it doesn’t always make sense.
You can look away if you want to. Or you can act as if I am not here or in the room.
But I am.

The sunrise was beautiful this morning. My routine changed for today, which caused me to have to leave at a different time.
But the ride was worth it.
I saw the sun come up while driving alongside The East River. I can tell you without a doubt that I have seen all sides of my city. I have seen the good parts and the bad, and somehow, despite all the craziness and the stories, I know this world is a good place.

But first, I think it is important for us to touch on something.
Okay?

I wonder what it would take to be young again. 
Or if at all, I wonder if this is possible?

I wonder if this is even possible. I wonder what it would feel like to regain that sort of resilience that only comes when you’re young enough to believe in a million tomorrows.  
I wonder.

I used to call them, “the velvet ropes,” and regard people like this as the lucky ones. I regarded people like this as the fortunate and the pretty people who seemed to get by on their looks.
I resented them as well. Or more,
I suppose I wished i was more like them.
Desired. Regarded.
Alive and well in the fashions of New York City.

I suppose the background for the “velvet ropes” title came to me when I was a younger man.
I saw them all, the pretty and the so-called elite.

It is early on a Sunday.
The clouds decided to show themselves this morning. Then again, the weatherman tells us about a storm that’s supposed to come. I heard the news say the storm is on its way from the northeast.
And that means this could be a bad one.
But I don’t mind.

Great things happen in the rain.
Days like this can be great to create memories.
I know.

We all come to this world in the same way. We are all shipped in similar packages and equipped with mild to moderate differences.
I agree that no one is the same. I agree that we are all unique in our own way.

At the same time, we all live and breathe. Some of us are more fortunate. And some people will live with challenges that no person should have to face. Some have obvious talents that go beyond compare and others have skills that are less seen or less known.

It has been said to me that nice guys finish last. I often wonder if this is because nice guys realize that they don’t need to win the race.

I suppose this is written as a means of survival.
But in fairness to the means, I realize that not everyone survives . . .
or wants to.

At best, I think that it is only fair for either of us to realize the following. There are times when there is nothing anyone can do.
Nothing can be done, except endure.
In which case, all we can do is keep going.
Keep moving. Keep trying.
Keep looking for the chance to switch or improve your position.

There was a night in my twenties that went long, or at least longer than usual which was not unusual to say the least. At the same time, this night was no different from any other weekend night.
I was young and wild and crazy. I was trying to find my way, which was blurry and unsure.
I was me, timid and trying not to be.

I assume I could have called this a moment of clarity. Or maybe a memory of a time when was my soul’s ability to foreshadow allowed me to realize that life is going to change.
Or at least I hoped.
Nothing lasts forever. Age happens. Life happens.
And the certainty of life is both inevitable and eventual.

Life is a trip.
It’s a ride. That’s for sure.

I have no idea what will come today. Other than the mail despite its contents, or other than the alarm that rings at the same time in the morning, and other than the schedule at work or the time of my morning train, —I have no idea what today brings. And even still, among the so-called things that I think I know, I understand that all things can and will be subject to change.
The world can fall from its perch at any given moment. The phone could ring, or not.

Any one thing can go in either direction.
I suppose.
Or for example, a smile can fade into a frown, or frowns can resolve themselves and turn the other way.
Anything can happen. Right?
Okay, then.