Starstruck/Sleepless

It’s Autumn now. The trees are on fire. The sirens are wailing at all hours. The cranes hoist metal and glass into the sky. And the birds are singing, and my heart is beating, but I can’t hear either of them over everything. Too loud. Too bright. Too much. 

New York is a Venus fly trap. It will eat us alive if we let it. I am sure if I stop in the street for too long it’ll catch up with me. The concrete is quicksand. If I flinch, if I jump, if I hesitate—it’ll wrap itself around my ankles and send me flying underground. Maybe that’s why everyone is walking so fast.

I guess New York is the movie everyone says it is. Everyone auditioning for their place. Dressed to the nines. Waiting like understudies for the lead to drop out. I watch them run to catch the subway. Watch them point a middle finger at the taxi that nearly hits them. Watch them raise their voice with whoever they’re in love with. Watch the man in the lobby yell “f*** you” to the elevator leaving without him. Everyone performing till the curtain drops. Till the credits roll. Till this city says ‘cut’ (if it ever does).

Starstruck and sleepless. The streets are never empty. I come home and turn all the lamps on. Tend to the flowers I bought in the kitchen. Put on the music I’d listen to in the suburbs and sing under my breath. Look out the window and count the shadows in the apartments across staring back. Everyone is on their own but never alone.

The blisters I have from walking up and down San Francisco are starting to fade, but I still remember it all. How the sky went pink that morning—like it knew I was leaving. How the night cut everything loose: all tears around the dining table. “Happy to be alive”, he says. I nod. I am. “Hold on to it”, she says, “don’t ever lose it”. I won’t. I won’t. I won’t. I promise. 

All this change makes me seasick but I surrender to it. If my voice shakes, let it shake. If my heart breaks, let it break. If I change, then I change. No time to think before the jump. I live with a firework in my chest. On my own, but never alone.

Originally published on World’s Greatest Internship here.