I’m planning on getting a new job. I know, I’ve been saying that for ages and haven’t made any major movement on the task. My most recent trip abroad solidified the shift forward though. My current job has kept me so emotionally well fed that I’m struggling to leave. I don’t know if what I’m trading it in for will be just as substantial. I’m realizing that it is, and that’s helping me let go.
It’s midnight right now and I’ve been smoking weed for the past 4 days. I threw away my joints earlier this evening. I promised myself over Japanese pastries in the West Village that this brief foray into smoking would remain just that, brief. I’ve spent too much time stoned and ruminating over heartbreak these past 2 years.
I want to move my life forward, I want to feel like a person again. Dating feels like an unnatural and mildly uncomfortable examination. It’s like going to the gynecologist, putting your legs in stirrups, and having your femininity clinically assessed with a latex glove. I thrive in singlehood because I’m released of burdens from the sexual marketplace. I don’t have to spend time admonishing myself for not passing an inspection.
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about my family. I’ve seen them once in the past 5 years. I recently blocked my parents on iMessage and WhatsApp. I think about how my parents raised me, how I was treated like a villain. For me to follow my body, my instincts, and the signals it sent was an egregious crime. Years ago I told a friend on drugs that I was thinking of moving to nyc. He responded “People move to New York to be forgiven.” He was right. The city is an escape hatch for the different. A place that asked me to follow my signals, not squelch them for someone else’s peace of mind.
I developed 2 rolls of film, one from Rockaway Beach and the other from Acatenango. I want to hang the photographs in my hallway and gaze at them on Saturday mornings while I make matcha. I want to quietly critique them, take stock of the energy changes between matte and glossy. I want to stare at an alternate universe and disappear from the shifting gaze of the prison wardens of the world.
a soft death 