My Landing Page



My back hurts. That’s new. It’s that pain that older people are always talking about. A kind I never experienced before but it’s now in the forefront of my mind as I’m lying here with my warm salt pillow pressed against my back. Thank you Mom for what I thought was a random gift that I’d never use. I’m ordering icy hot patches from Amazon on the company card. And toe warmers because I’m sick of having cold feet.

I left work feeling defeated. Not just physically. I don’t know what it’s for. Why am I doing this? I could be doing anything else. I could’ve moved anywhere for a fresh start but I came back here and I don’t know why. What am I learning from this? I don’t know what I want or where I want to go but I am getting a better idea of what I don’t want and where I don’t want to go. And that’s not nothing.

I caught myself tearing up on the train. It happens more than I’d want you to know. Is it that I’m so depressed? I don’t think so? I think I just feel things more intensely than most people. Always have. It rained all day here and I remembered how much I love when it rains there. And before I knew it, I was almost crying.

As much as I hate to admit it, I’d be lying if I said my heart doesn’t ache, too. Because on day like today, all I want to do is reach for you but you’re not here anymore. It’s been 784 days and I don’t know how to make that pain go away. There’s no icy hot for the heart.

Someone told me they saw you on a date recently. I lied when I said it didn’t bother me. I was also half a bottle of champagne in. I knew it was inevitable. I thought it’d be easier. I thought it wouldn’t hurt because I’d beaten you to it. But I care more than I want to. How did you meet? What does she look like? Is she funny? And does it even matter because deep down I know she’ll never be me. I know she might be good for you. I know I was not good for you. We were not good for each other.

I think about what life would’ve looked like with you. I want to reach out so badly. Why? Just something simple. Hey, how’s it going? But there’s no such thing as simple for me. There’s no such thing as friends for me. I feel too much remember? I can’t help it. I don’t know any other way.

I miss you.

I hate this weather.

I hate this weather.

It’s a special wet cold that I find particularly dreary.
The kind of day where I just want to sit around and watch
the new season of The Crown
with someone who loves me.
And I got a bit of that.
But I also got to walk home in the cold.
Back to reality.
There are parts of my reality that I’m not crazy about right now.
I wonder if I made the right choice.
Is this really what I want?
I don’t know what I want these days.
But the things I don’t want are more clear to me most days.
I still doubt myself.
All the time.
I wonder if I did the right thing.
I wonder what it would look like another way.
A Sunday where I might have seen you.
Or at least texted you because tonight’s pretty sunset
would have been a perfect excuse to initiate a conversation .
Not that I was ever at a shortage of excuses.
A lot of things lead me back to you.
That’s still where my brain likes to go
more often than I like.
It was nice while it lasted.
Whatever it was.
But at the end of the day,
I don’t miss that roller coaster
we put me on.
Oh but when it was good,
it was great.
Is that why I still think about it?
Why am I so hung up on it?
Why haven’t I been able to find anything like it?
The good parts I mean.
There hasn’t been anyone that’s even remotely close.
I haven’t found it again yet.
And that’s that.
Maybe I need a project.
Something that is so consuming,
that takes up all the space I spend thinking about
how much I hate the weather
and other such generally negative themes
including relations lost.
But it’s that kind of day
where I wish there was someone to come home to.
A warm meal and a warm bed.
I miss that.
Not to say that things are bad the way are.
I have a lot to be grateful for.
It frustrates me that I want it.
Because wanting it
and not having it
is the worst
especially today.
I hate how soon it gets dark.
I miss living in a place where the sun shines and it’s warm.
Why did I choose to come back here?
Because it’s unlike any other place.
It’s singular.
But it gets really grey and smells bad.
Loneliness creeps in more easily here.
I live in the most populous city in America
and yet some times
not all the time
but a lot of the time
I feel alone.
And the weather doesn’t help.


You ask me not to overthink it. You say we can be friends. You really believe that? You really want that. I don’t have that kind of faith in us. You say I make it so black and white by trying to define it. But is that so bad? You want me to just let it be because it’s too good to be deny. Don’t I know it.

I’ve tried so hard to deny you. I’m not going to lie and say it wasn’t nice talking to you. It’s always nice. Except when I said I hated you. That was not nice and not entirely untrue. I hate how good it feels when you drift back into my life. I hate how easy it is for you to separate. To stop. To not get carried away.

Why should we be friends? I don’t need more friends. I don’t think I want to be your friend. You want that. So what do I want? You said you missed me and I missed you too. There’s something here. What kind of relationship can we possibly have if there’s a limit? A point where can’t get to? A line we don’t cross? Isn’t that a rule? Didn’t you say we don’t need rules? WTF.

I’m out.

Welcome back.

Welcome back.

It feels so good to be in my own bed. The shitty wifi is a familiar discomfort. After being gone for so long, I almost forgot how much I missed my space.

Opening my laptop is stressful. So many tabs open. I really should be mindful of tidying my digital space.

When he encouraged me (in his way) to rearrange my apps, it changed the way I use my phone. Albeit I’m still on my screen way too much. It makes my eyes hurt and it’s getting harder for me to read.

I still read fast. I’ve always been a fast reader. But you already know that. Could I ever be the kind of writer that people love to read? That people look forward to reading. Is anybody even reading? What would I write about? How about the good things? The things that make me feel good.

Going back to work today was not awful. Contrary to popular belief. And I feel like New York is on my side. The weather was beautiful. Compared to the snowstorm I caught in Chicago. Got off the plane from Honolulu and walked into the freezing rain. Welcome back to reality. No more sounds of the ocean lulling you to sleep. Back to the smelly streets that are full of trash.

It’s exactly where I’m supposed to be. I’m doing the right thing. I know what I want. How often do I say what I want? I remember he would laugh whenever I’d take a second to consider my answer because he could see me thinking. I liked knowing he was watching. It’s why I love read receipts. They’re a little proof that I had your attention.

It’s kind of funny how I dropped my bags off only to pack a different bag to leave again. I don’t feel like this space is a home. All my stuff is here but this is not a home. My Airbnb in Hawaii felt more like a home. Ok maybe that’s a stretch.

Is this how books get written? I don’t even know what I’d write a book about. What kind of exciting things happen in my life? Last night I played Pictionary. And I was pretty good at it. My team still lost. I got to see my best friend shine last night. The whole weekend really. It was a nice ease back into reality.

I’m glad I got that thing off my chest. Maybe it took a trip to Hawaii to figure it out. I was told that going away makes things clear. I know what I don’t want. What I won’t entertain for no other reason than I don’t want to. It’s nice. You understand. It feels like a relief. It’s pretty clear. I did what I needed and not what I wanted.

I hate unpacking. I should complain less. Why is it so cold? I’m not complaining. I chose this. Relax your jaw.

Is this what writing a book feels like? You just sit down and go? You let the thoughts go? What’s the next thought? I think I’m doing the right thing. I think I should stop thinking about that. And that, too.

Maybe I should stop editing before it hits the page. There is no wrong way. Just do it. Is it Sheryl Sandberg who says done is better than perfect? Not to say that a Facebook executive is the person to look up to these days if you’re trying to lead a life of integrity. Is it just me? I deleted Facebook. I’m in that camp now. Not that I wouldn’t take a job at a big tech company if I had the chance. All the people that I know who work for Google, of which there are maybe 3, seem really happy. Their lives look very stable and they do things that I don’t really a care about.

What would that life be like? I don’t know. I love my job in way I never thought I would love a job. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows but I’m going to stick it out. I’m learning how to be patient.

I don’t think I’ll ever have your restraint. I just don’t see the point in denying yourself something that feels good when it’s right there. Does that make me reckless? Sometimes people get hurt. And there were times I ended up hurting myself. I knew I did something wrong just because it was there. But even just for a moment, I felt good.

It feels good to be back for now.

What’s worse?

Life with or without you? Is it worth denying a part of myself to indulge another? I don’t think I’m capable of shutting down the part of me that feels so intensely. How would I turn it down? How do you do it? I’m realizing not everyone feels the way I do.

So what’s worse? A taste of something sweet knowing there’s a limit or depriving myself entirely? I can’t control my feelings the way you can and I don’t want to. Why should I? I know what feels right and I know I’ll want more. I can’t want less of something that feels so good. I don’t know what’s worse but I’m trying to do what’s best for me.

Times gone by

Remember that time you were driving me home on a beautiful, warm, sunny day in April? You let me pick a song and it felt really intimate scrolling through your playlists. I was a little nervous to choose but I found one that was just right. We turned the volume up, rolled the windows down. We sang and danced along. That moment is seared into my memory because it felt right, like we were on the same page. We were having fun. We weren’t worried about our futures. Right? Or was it just me? Do you remember what I’m talking about? 

We were coming back from that hotel on the beach. I’ll never not think about you if I ever go back there. That stupid, little hotel where it felt like we were on vacation but really we were just escaping from reality together for a while. That hotel where sat together for hours talking about all the things that mattered to us. 

Remember the first time we went? When we ran into that woman who ran an alumni association for the school we went to as kids? You paid for lunch because you’d lost our usual bet. I can’t remember if at some point you said it was a date. There were drinks involved and you kissed me by the pool. It felt like a date. It was warm and I could hear the ocean. We were there for 5 hours or something ridiculous like that and I had trouble getting back into my house after you dropped me off because I couldn’t remember the code to the garage. I was flustered. You surprised me. 

Can you blame me?

But what’s the point in reminiscing? It doesn’t matter anymore. Whatever we were wasn’t the real thing and now it’s not anything. Sure, it might make for a good story but who’s reading? Who cares?

Me. I care. Ok, there I said it. I still care about you and I wish so badly that I didn’t. I make myself miserable wondering what you were (or are) thinking at any given moment. I’m really good at it. I tell myself to get over it, to stop replaying the memories in my mind but I’m really bad at it. Not to say I haven’t tried. I am constantly trying and constantly failing. It annoys me. I hate it. I hate that as I’m hurtling 611 mph at 37,000 ft above ground, I happen to pick a movie that reminds me a lot of us and suddenly, I’m back wishing for times gone by.

Our usual

Our usual

I was surprised and disappointed to see your number appear on my screen. I don’t have your contact saved anymore but I knew it was you. Why now? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t panic. I felt my stomach clench, my head spin, and my thoughts start to race. What the actual fuck? It felt like I could vomit so I poured myself a healthy serving of tequila.

My life is rich without you. It’s simpler in a lot of ways. Things with you were complicated. For me at least. I have everything I need and more, but seeing your number makes me feel like I’m missing something.

You put two words together and texted them to me. Bravo. What did you expect? Did you actually think I’d take you up on your offer? Were you hoping I’d respond in my way that I know you love so much? You said I ruined witty banter for you. You’ve never met anyone else like me? What were you thinking?

This is exactly why I love read receipts. I didn’t know how to respond but you know I saw it. There’s a time stamp to prove it and you know without a doubt that I chose to not respond. Even though I still want to. A wise man once told me the worst thing you can do to someone is ignore them. I don’t know who this is worse for, me or you. Does it even bother you?

Thank God for that wedding. A perfect distraction. Albeit, the thought of you crossed my mind more than once. Especially in the moments when I ducked out of the reception and took myself on a moonlit stroll through one of the most beautiful properties I’ve set foot on. I kept wishing you were there. We’d have a lot of fun as wedding dates.

In another life, I would’ve taken you up on your offer. I would’ve said yes to our usual bet and you would owe me dinner. Our usual. But things are different now and for the first time maybe ever, I don’t know what to say to you. Maybe you’ll get a taste of what it feels like to not know how someone feels about you.

I still wish you were here. I wish we were sitting here together looking out onto the ocean with nothing but time and a bottle of rosé. You’d love the view. Epic sunsets. The kind that I want(ed) to watch with you. But you’re not here, you’re there.

I keep reminding myself it’s better this way. I don’t need you and I hate the part of me that misses you. Until it’s gone, it will suck. But in response to your ridiculous, outlandish, out-of-nowhere question – if you wanted to take me out to dinner, you could’ve just asked. But I suppose that was never our usual.