I’m fiiine!!

For someone so seriously in love with the City that never sleeps i haven’t been feeling that connection much lately. Too many people. Too loud. Too fast. Too cold. … No one. Too quiet. Too slow. Too hot. All of the sudden i don’t want to be bothered talking to the guy at the register, explaining him why i need to buy 15 boxes of Kleenex. A moment later i’m cursing the world with a homeless guy who’s giving me a free therapy and sharing his views about my situation that is obviously not even close to his life problems, packed in a cardboard box. Why the hell does the Indian taxi driver need to know why i’m sobbing on the back sit of his yellow office on wheels? I’m sure, my boss’s dog walker could also do without the front row Broadway drama i let out on him the other day. Broken heart comes with a broken personality? It’s like being thrown in the middle of the ocean with the waves pushing you wherever they want to – one day you see the beautiful sand shore in front of you, the next moment, you’re trying to swim away from the rocks you’re about to hit. I’m a non-pregnant woman with all the symptoms of one that actually is. Lets work 14 hours a day to forget about it – can i have a day off, i feel too tired to even breath. I have to call him – lets burn the pictures. I can’t eat anything – i never have enough chocolate for emergencies like that. Don’t feel sorry for me – why don’t you check in on me every 5 minutes of the day?! I’ll save all the money and travel somewhere far to reset my views on life – ah, i need two pairs of Calvin Klein jeans, new iPod, some purple grandma plant and a glittery blue fish for my room… all the stuff to feel the emptiness that suddenly appeared. It works. For the first two hours. Then you see that even Calvin gets stained, the fish’s water needs to be changed, you need to take care of that grandma plant, and your break-up music on your new iPod sounds just as sad as it did before.

I guess when you tell your parents about every major movement and decision you made in your life, things get serious. They get worried so much that they are virtually packing your bags and having you sitting on the first plane going back home. It’s the same with your closest friends. You can see their faces, tears that they share with you, how they are on your side and your side only, 360° and more (even when you’re acting like the biggest jerk), sending chocolates in packets and courage in their voice over the ocean. You can only imagine, how desperately i wanted to just hop on the plane and come home for some real face-to-face conversations, or just to cry for hours in a giant hug, with someone telling me that everything will be ok. Somehow I knew that already. Now i have to accept it. Start with the little silly things like stopping to admire a bird’s nest, looking at magnolias proudly showing off in their favorite time of the year. Children laughing. Dogs running. Saxophone playing in the distance. Rays of sun coming through the leaves… Corny things like that. I’ve been told it helps. Getting drunk sounds so much easier.

On those rare days of extreme uplifts when you feel there’s no mountain high enough, no ocean wide enough, when you could just pick up the whole entire earth, spin it on one finger and throw it in a giant basket ball hoop, screaming scoooore, everything seems normal again. But it’s not. It’s just me now. Me. A new fact i have to adopt as an opportunity or a key if you want, to unlock new doors and see what’s behind them. And not just routinely, with excitement and passion, just as i once did! Bla bla bla…

Today I lost a shoe. Don’t even ask how. But then I thought, well, aren’t break-ups just like losing a shoe? How will I get to work with just one shoe??! Jumping on one foot seems like a smart thing to do for a while but soon you realize that not only you’re out of breath, but your other feet is hurting and people are looking at you funny. It makes you sad knowing that even if you get a new shoe to match the one you got left with, it will only be a fake, one night stand replacement. But the next thing you know, you’re walking down the 12th avenue, half shoe-less and not even carring anymore. As they say – it’s plenty of shoes out there. You just have to find the ones that fit perfectly.