it isn’t all fun and games here. and to be honest, that’s kind of what i wanted. the pain of it all, the sorrow and loneliness of being by myself in a place where I know no one. But then you go and make a new friend, you hang out, you have a drink or two and you talk about books—and on the ride home, you read a book as a family is laughing to your left, about inside jokes you’ll never understand but their laughter is infectious and you can’t help but smile—and when you get home, you lay on the couch knowing fully well that your painful feelings are still there, but for some reason you aren’t alone as a human in this world—even within your loneliness there is connection—and you know that connection is loud, it’s boisterous—it’s easily accessible.
you know you are depressed and you know you will be fine the moment you step outside. because this city doesn’t sleep: it doesn’t stop. it keeps going and you have to keep going with it. you have to.
