2bc

Officially counting down to college. Not to fantasies, not to applications, not to exams, but to the actual thing. At this point, I believe in time travel more than the fact that I'll be attending a university in less than a week. Which is the fault of 2 parts denial, 1 part Donnie Darko.

love letter to a city unknown

New York City fucking scares me, but it makes me feel alive.

I don't know much of anything. I often feel as if I'm regressing, fading into an oblivion negative enough to depolarize my every atom. I don't know why. I don't.

Yet whenever I'm in the City, I feel a physical shift. Something palpable. Something real. There is consequence to every step. Dreams are at an arm's reach. So are the demons. So are you. But at least you can finally see them.

I have never before felt so insignificant. So absolutely present. So powerful. The suburbs shower you with the moldy grandeur of significance since birth, an empty baptism. You are special. Sing the gospel. Write your goals in the blanks provided.

Significance is a separation. Postulation, not protein.

To be insignificant is to be a part of something. Whatever it is, you're in.

Influential.

The City and the person take turns playing canvas.

And everyone, every one, separate from path or sphere or goal or flesh, is always in motion. The spirit of the city is that we try. We all try.

We recognize the power of the City and ourselves. And we underestimate neither.

I've been trying to find a way to keep that feeling, for me to invoke it at will, so that I may go about my days with a sense of power.

I've tried snapping twice at inspiration, hoping to thread the senses.

Maybe there are no threads. Maybe they're everywhere.

Maybe that's the same. Maybe that's beautiful.