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Deep Breath Brooklyn

When I moved away from Brooklyn I missed a lot of things-- the medley of buskers as the subway doors opened at the next station, the unlimited menu, the salty air, but also the swanky fluidity of the city. I had away and couldn't stay away for more than 3 weeks before I started coming back to see friends every weekend or so, 8 hours on a midnight special greyhound bus, but that's a whole other memory in itself. After being back for a year and some I can't help but fall back into the wanderlust that had awakened in me a while ago before being dampened by the soot of being home in NYC. I have not a single thing to upset about, at least in comparison to the blessings. I feel such a strong sense of being in need of an attitude change yet I am having a hard time pinpointing the daggers that I sense between the obviously copious smiles and heart-wrenching responsibilities that do little more than make me human like everyone else (nothing to whine about). This area between feeling like the luckiest girl in the world and trying to figure out basic adulthood is like looking out a dusty window, I can see vaguely the things on either side of it and make out the sun rays but I can't help but feel like I'm on the wrong side of it. I'm afraid of opening the window and letting in the flies; I'm afraid of spending perfectly good afternoons fretting over myself and afraid of not looking for opportunity. I know all of my thinking isn't worth the memories I can be making like a micro self sabotage.

The universe is pulling me in all directions and I won't let myself move a budge

I'm simply not going to allow myself to be this way anymore. I want to be the girl who hopped on a greyhound on a whim again.

And I'm not going to beat myself up about not fulfilling the daydream schemes.

But I know I can't stop dreaming


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