the city thoughts

I'm living in New York.

I arrived here 6 months ago, approximately. And I will be here for the next 2 years of my life, at least, If not more.

I call myself an artist. I call myself art.

I found the confidence to call myself that here.

The city is black, and there are days when I want to go to the airport and get my one way ticket.

That's only when I miss him terribly. And that feeling for bad or for good it's not on my chest all the time anymore. 

The city is grey, and there are days when I want to leave.

Too much noise for a loner, too much dirt for a girl.

The city is turquoise, and there are days when I look at the sky, and want to stay.

I imagine myself in a studio doing my art, with that clear sky coming in the room through the window.

The city is infinite, and there are days when I think this is the only place I belong.

Every morning when I cross the street to go to school, the streets are quite, there's this November cold touching my cheeks that I love, and I look on my left and right as I walk, and I see the streets going on and on till my eyes meet the horizon and I feel like I'm just sitting on the top of this world.

 It's hard for me to explain what the city really is. 

Or how I feel about the person who I used to inhale life from. 

My lungs were always filled with him, him, him.

And there are days, very often, still, when I remember his touch and my spine cries lullabies.

People say that we forget things as the days and months pass, 

that 6 months are enough for someone to forget how we look, how we walk, the sound of our laugh, our voice. 

I don't believe in things like that. I can't forget anything. I don't know how and I'm not trying.

I remember how we stayed in bed and we spoke for everything and for nothing. 

And how we went for walks almost every day last year, because I wanted to go to the city all the time after I found out I'm leaving. 

I remember how he didn't like going because there's nothing that we haven't seen before and I remember how I was thinking that it didn't matter because every moment with him was always different than the previous one. Always different than the one that was coming. 

I remember things that he has forgotten. 

I realize that at times when we talk or argue about something.

It doesn't hurt so much that he forgets the things that I fail to let go.

I will keep everything in me for the both of us,

I promise, I promise what lives inside me, it's more than enough for the both of us.

The city changed me, but it didn't take away pieces of me.

There's nothing people left in me that I don't carry with me to this day.

The city gave me more.

I guess I'm stronger now. I have the knowledge of my own self.

The city made me love myself enough, to fight for me and only me this time.

It's the first time that I feel so good about me, and about what I'm doing.

It's okay if we changed in the process, if we became more.

It's okay, love.

We still have the light of the day to remind us who we used to be.

We still have the starry night to reming us of each other.

We'll meet again. I know it.

And when we do, I hope we're still enough. 

xx Faidra