…I shouldn’t have left you, without a dope beat to step to.
But it has been a while since I’ve posted on this blog. I just wish I could say I’ve been busy but… oh wait, I can! Since my last post I’ve worked at a start-up, become a sister-in-law, moved back to Philadelphia, started a PhD program, joined a new church, and purchased a bike (and all of those things are equally important)!
I won’t bore you, anonymous reader, with the details of these things, you can just assume that everything went down smoothly and I’ve had no hardships or difficulties in my life since September of 2016. So I’ll just fast forward to now.
It’s weird to think that my last post on this blog was also coincident with my move out of NYC. (I left NYC in September or October of 2016 after I realized that I couldn’t live in my aunt’s apartment anymore.) Now, as I ride the bus from NYC to Philadelphia, I’m realizing something.
I’ve only been in love once in my life. I’m sure it was unrequited, but it was still the most passionate and meaningful relationship I’ve been in. I changed a lot as a result but by the end I thought I was ready for it to be over. I think I was wrong.
I’ve always been a big believer that there are some decisions that God gives us free reign over. Sometimes you pray really deeply about a thing and you fast and you cry and you have no idea what to do and God seemingly leaves you hanging. I believe, and I could be super-wrong, that sometimes we encounter decisions that don’t necessarily lead to a right or wrong track and so our decision is what we have to live with as being the thing we chose. I don’t think it’s a punishment from God, I just think that not every fork in the road leads to either heaven or hell. Some are just inconsequential or at least they don’t have a major effect on the narrative of your life.
Being in NYC these past few days reminded me of that decision I had almost a year ago. I could pursue a dream and start a PhD program or I could pursue love and stay in New York. I chose the PhD. But I couldn’t help but wonder what life would be like if I pursued love.
I’m sure this sounds melodramatic to you, anonymous reader. I have to admit that I feel a little foolish writing this. But that doesn’t change the fact that my heart breaks a little every time I have to leave.
New York brings out things in you that other places don’t. For me, it was creativity but for other people it’s something else. And I know it’s dirty and way too fast and hugely economically unequal, but it’s also filled with memories. Every street I walk, every subway stop, every time I go to trivia night at Biddy’s Pub. New York will always remind me of another time and make me regret what could’ve been had I chosen a different road.
For a brief moment this weekend, I had the craziest thought: maybe I could drop out of my program and try to make it here? The city is intoxicating. That’s what I love about it. But that intoxication is also deceptive. It makes you forget about the difficulties, the expenses, the loneliness, and the transience. It makes you forget reality.
I love where I live now. I love my apartment, I love the friends I’m beginning to make, and I love my PhD program. But I also still love New York. And tight now those loves can co-exist somewhat harmoniously. It’s just that every once in a while, I get that pang of remembrance and regret…