Crossing the George Washington, 2013
I've been in an introspective mood lately. I suppose it's natural when your life solely consists of work and study.
I spent half of this year surrounded by people. I was texting constantly, seeing friends often, dating someone across the country and yet I felt so lonely. Something was missing and I just couldn't seem to patch the hole. In the last month or so, I've stopped returning phone calls. I ended my short-lived never-should've-happened relationship. I did it for pragmatic reasons of studying, but I think part of me just craved the solitude. I've been using external band-aids to fix internal wounds. Is 8 years too long to find forgiveness? Maybe it was foolish to think it could've taken anything less. Either way, this must be what metempsychosis feels like. Something familiar is coursing through my veins and it feels like the crisp air at 6am, like the glow of late night lamps, like James Joyce and I are friends again.
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