It's 3pm on a Sunday afternoon in Brooklyn.If you had told me a year ago that I'd be living in Brooklyn,I might have laughed.Honestly,it's hard to say for certainbecause me a year agofeels like a completely different person.Tomorrow is New Year's Eve.It's also my brother's birthday.Everyone raise a glass to that amazing young man.I'm 26 [...]
I thought that I was ready.But I'm not.I thought it would be easy.But it's not.I didn't think it'd be this hard.But it is.I didn't think it'd hurt this much.But it does.I'm not ready.But ready or not,what's done is done.
I wanted this year to bethe year of me.I realize now it becamethe year of you.A pretty startwith an ugly endand some volatility in between.A predictable pattern of mine.I've arrivedat the point wherenothing is left.No doubt.No question.No curiosity.No hope.No dreams.No magic.No time.I'm ready for a new year.
Money helps open doors.Money helps fight the clock.Money helps clean up a mess.Money helps fix things that break.But all the money in the world can't conjure joy where there is none.
Sloppy. It was sloppy. I hate that. Same content. Different context. Changes everything. See the upside. I cut the chord of the crazy loopsthat start to turn whenever he starts creeping back into my thoughts. It doesn't matter. He didn't care. He doesn't care. He is not going to care. Let it lie. Just be done.Or at least start writing again.
You know it's good whenYou know it's bad whenyou can find the sweet spotyou can't find the sweet spotlike it's nothing.like it's complicated.
I love taking the train to Brooklynbecause it's above groundand it's easier to appreciate the cityseeing it clearlyfrom a (little) distance.You know people like that, don't you?