the worst part about living in new york is this underlying fear that i'm never capitalizing enough on being continuously in the midst of the exact concentrated specialness that entranced all the great writers and artists and creatives and films and tv. all the days i spent walking down lexington when i lived on the upper east side could have become a joan didion essay or a gossip girl episode but i made nothing of it. every morning getting ready and going to school at union square, gazing out at the empire state building when i'm up late at the school library, summer internship in the classic midtown skyscrapers on 5th avenue, taking the 1 train and thinking of asap rocky, my favorite bookstore in the lower east side that childish gambino immortalized in my teenage brain, walking past the comedy cellar to go to amc only for the comedy cellar to be a central location in the movie i watch that day, even in avengers there's a scene right outside the coffee shop by my house, coming home to put on my comfort tv shows, 30 rock, the mindy project, friends, seinfeld, kimmy schmidt, and they're all exactly where i was all day, it's endless... i don't know what to make of it all. i feel this nervous energy buzzing in me all the time knowing i'm in the Beautiful place and the historic place and so much has happened here and keeps happening and keeps getting immortalized and i feel the desire to drink from this fountain as well, i want to create something out of all of this, i want all of this to have meant something in the end

I had a dream that this man seemed falsely nice but I could tell he enjoyed having control over women, and then he came to talk to me, and he false-nicely offered me a lollipop, but it was a thin sliver of a lollipop, an almost finished one, gross and sticky, and when I refused I could see him gearing up to try to coerce me to take it, put it directly in my mouth, I clamped my jaw shut and clenched all my muscles and he put his arm around my neck, trying to encompass me with his size and strength, all I could do was exert all my power to resist while he jammed the sharp sticky edge of the lollipop against my lips, it was so infuriating and I woke in a rage. Clearly this was a metaphor my subconscious had kindly constructed for me but i’m disappointed in how overt the symbolism was, could I not have been any more creative with it..