An Old Post I Forgot to Post
This isn't something that I admit very often, both to myself and to the people around me, but living in New York City can be and is often incredibly lonely. It's the ultimate irony, really, to live in the biggest city in the United States surrounded by 8 million people and having virtually no personal space once you leave your apartment door yet finding yourself feeling, at times, so totally and completely alone.
I don't have classmates, or coworkers, or sorority sisters. I don't have a boyfriend or anyone who shares my bloodline within a 1,000 mile radius. I don't have a pet, not even an easy one like a fish or a hamster. Come to think of it, I don't even have a plant. Don't get me wrong; I'm not completely unattached in this city. I have a roommate and a handful of kick-ass city friends, but life here is so full and fast that getting together for a cup of coffee or a movie requires great organizing and coordinating that sometimes weeks or even months go by and I realize that I haven't met up with one of the ten NYC people I can count on my fingers that would notice if I vanished like on an episode of Law & Order SVU.
And yes, I'm an independent woman (holla!) and I can go to coffee shops alone and I can go to movies alone and I can spend an entire weekend running errands and reading books and exploring the city, all alone. I can do all of these things alone. But sometimes I get to the point when I just don't want to anymore.
This Lonesome Town feeling that I get has been preying on me more frequently now that I don't have a regular job to wake up and go to every day. Yesterday afternoon I hit a low point, not wanted to leave my apartment because (1) it was cold and gloomy outside and (2) because every time I do leave my apartment, I find myself spending money- which is something I cannot afford to be doing now. So I pulled the covers over my head in my bed and laid there for 23 minutes until I got a much needed phone-pep talk and decided to screw being lonely and instead go to a museum.
This is what I saw:
And suddenly I didn't feel so alone after all.
I don't have classmates, or coworkers, or sorority sisters. I don't have a boyfriend or anyone who shares my bloodline within a 1,000 mile radius. I don't have a pet, not even an easy one like a fish or a hamster. Come to think of it, I don't even have a plant. Don't get me wrong; I'm not completely unattached in this city. I have a roommate and a handful of kick-ass city friends, but life here is so full and fast that getting together for a cup of coffee or a movie requires great organizing and coordinating that sometimes weeks or even months go by and I realize that I haven't met up with one of the ten NYC people I can count on my fingers that would notice if I vanished like on an episode of Law & Order SVU.
And yes, I'm an independent woman (holla!) and I can go to coffee shops alone and I can go to movies alone and I can spend an entire weekend running errands and reading books and exploring the city, all alone. I can do all of these things alone. But sometimes I get to the point when I just don't want to anymore.
This Lonesome Town feeling that I get has been preying on me more frequently now that I don't have a regular job to wake up and go to every day. Yesterday afternoon I hit a low point, not wanted to leave my apartment because (1) it was cold and gloomy outside and (2) because every time I do leave my apartment, I find myself spending money- which is something I cannot afford to be doing now. So I pulled the covers over my head in my bed and laid there for 23 minutes until I got a much needed phone-pep talk and decided to screw being lonely and instead go to a museum.
This is what I saw:
And suddenly I didn't feel so alone after all.
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