The Year of Solitude

This is the beginning of my life in solitude, starting with me, staring down from the top of a diving board. I am waiting to jump. “I must jump, I must jump,” I keep thinking to myself. No one knows what waits for me down there. The beauty in the pain of life, is that no one can take your own experience from you. I look back and I see people waiting for me. No one is leading me to the top, and it’s up to me to make it all the way up. I have no choice, because now I am standing at the edge looking down.

It was our first late afternoon in Brooklyn, when Amaya and I got off of the plane. We decided to go to our favorite Thai place that Sydney showed us. The sun was setting, and it looked like we were in a dream. We passed all of these brownstone houses with stoops, where people sat having conversations. The wind was passing softly through the streets, and ruffling around the trees. The air was crisp, and fall felt like it was around the corner. The sun was golden, and shining all around us through the neighborhood. First thing I felt, was this glow that I have never felt before. I had this rush of excitement, which fueled my inspiration, and creativity again. I am here, in New York City. I have spent many hours a day thinking. My favorite activity here is walking around. I walk a lot through Central Park. I sit down somewhere on a bench, and I just watch. I listen to music, and my eyes tear up. I can tell I want to cry, it lays comfortable in my chest, waiting for the right moment to emerge from its slumber. And I think that I want to cry, because this is the end of me being a kid. My life has changed, because love has changed my life. I have friends who love me, and they love me because I am myself. I have people who miss me all the time. The funny thing is, all I ever want to do is call my friends to hear how they are, now that we are thousands of miles apart. And as natural as it felt for me to move here, and I do not regret it one bit, I still miss home sometimes because of them.

My life in Tucson had become insufferable. I left because the heat was beginning to smother me. My daily routine grew so tiresome and monotonous. It seemed like all the times that I was alone, it felt piteous, or it felt like it was out of pure desperation to get away. But how far can I go when there are so many people I know in a place like Tucson ? My friends supported my decisions, and were amazing, and kind, and they were so compassionate and selfless about it. I could not have moved here, the way that I did, without them. I am capable of making my own big life decisions without other people. But I didn’t realize how much their support had convinced me, that I was making the right decision and that I can do it. And since leaving, it feels like my mind has cleared, and I am able to sort through the mess. That room where I kept the door shut and ignored the fact that it was there, I am now ready to face. I can take a step back and observe. I can admit, that I do not know nearly as much as I thought I did. And there were very few times where I questioned myself. Now I ask myself all the time, am I making the right decisions ? Was it worth it, trading my view of the mountains for skyscrapers ? Should I have given up the fresh air, for clouds of cigarettes that never seem to leave ? Can I survive here ? And I think that I am finding it difficult to find acceptance in myself. This year, is the year that I confront my insecurities that never left. I can feel them, deep down inside myself wanting to come back up. It is troubling, to think that at twenty four, I am still fighting the same issues I did when I was younger. Maybe that is why I’ve been emotional lately. I sit in Central Park, and I watch the leaves fall from the trees, and I think about why I moved here. I moved here for the same reason that drives all our ambitions, opportunity. I dream about walking through the desert, and I arrive at this tall standing saguaro cactus, with a small pond in front of it. The sky is colorful, and the mountains are washed over in sunlight. I walk over and I stare into the pond, gazing at my reflection. Behind me, standing bright and proud, is my motherly moon. She is always shining bright and beautiful. I wake up, and I remember this piece I once wrote. I am that desert flower. I wake up in a new city, and I miss the smell of the earth. I miss the rain there, and my friends, and the small predictability that I had for how my life could have turned out if stayed. This is something I had never done before. But you only experience something for the first time, once. So, I will start thinking fondly of my transition. I will think of my situation more, than a time that is filled with goodbyes and ”I miss you” text messages. This is only the beginning. My mind has changed so much in these last two months, that I have to keep examining my face in the mirror. I need to see if my eyes changed, to see if I look more wiser. I need to look at my nose, because maybe the shape is a little bit different. I lifted the curtain, and I stepped out onto the other side. It feels so natural and life feels like an improper balance, but one that weighs more into my favor. One night, Amaya and I were looking out at the Brooklyn Bridge, and I was thinking about how much I enjoy being here. And out of the sky, a white feather appeared, and flew right in front of me. This happens to me often, and I think it’s a sign. It’s like people who see numbers, or lady bugs, or butterflies, or pick up pennies on the side walk knowing that someone sent it to them. A white feather, reminds me of the pond in my dream. I look forward to see the future, and only get reminded of what is behind me. The answer buried deep and deeper within myself, is there. I just have to dig, and dig, and hope to one day find it. The grout underneath my finger nails, tells me that I will always strive to do better. And how lucky am I, to find myself in New York City, searching for my voice amongst many other things. I think to myself now, how thankful I am to be finding peace in my solitude again.