There is nothing like a shitty workday on a cold New York evening to make you feel how alone you are.
Welcome to my Tuesday.
I’ve been frozen in time and thought about this blog and what I wanted it to be. I haven’t been writing. At all. For anything.
At first, I blamed travel. No WiFi in a pied à terre in Paris is enough reason. Then I blamed work, which though valid, isn’t a full proper excuse in my book. I blamed time management, WordPress, Twitter, and even at one point retrogrades (though this IS a proper excuse!) point is, months passed and no words felt real enough to print. I faded out and let the whole idea of writing freeze over.
Something about actually being frozen over while sitting on a bus bench in Harlem snapped me out though. Maybe it was the darkness or the hunger from not enough free snacks at work but I realized just how cold I actually was. It’s been a tough few months.
I often have uncertainty about my words and how (if) anyone could bring themselves to care. Beneath that is the uncertainty of whether anyone out there could care about me. Tonight, my uncertainty was not quashed but instead allowed to sit with me. Waiting.
I am uncertain. I am cold. I had a rough few months.
But I’m writing. To you.
Maybe there’s something to that.