When I think of running away, I think of New York.
I imagine the giant skyscrapers hiding me beneath their feet. The hustle of the people coming to and from destinations. Getting lost among the crowds that swallow you whole then spit you out. If you could make it here, you could make it anywhere. Those words are what brought me here so many times. What catapulted the illusion of leaving and being lost in city so astronomically grand.
I’ve had my fair share of travels but it was always New York. Always New York that I whispered under my breath and beating in my heart. It was a city of reinvention. Staring over. Losing yourself amongst the crowds and the herds of people. It was more than a city. It was a new beginning. A fresh start and every cliche characteristic you could think of. I left my heart in San Francisco but my heartbreak was on ever corner in New York. To the boys I danced with, to the boys I kissed, every lovesick bad chord between the bars. I cried my last tear, sharing cigarettes with strangers in my drunken bliss of forgetfulness.
You could walk down the street of every city but they will never be New York. They will never have the life and chaos in every step. The colorful characters in every corner. The bright lights that over power every sunset and sunrise. That feeling of kinship with every stranger. As beautiful of a city, as majestic as it seems, theres still a loneliness that harbors below the surface. This chill that cuts you to the core and squeezes at your heart. Sometimes when you hide from the world all you really want is for someone to find you. Find your broken existence. You could sit on a million stoops. Stare out a hundred windows and you’ll never find what you’re looking for. Don’t search for things that are no longer there. Don’t go looking for people that have already left. Don’t go to cities that will only break your heart. New York, I love you but you’re bringing me down.
And I could never live there.