Pulse Normal

It's been over a month since Last I wrote.

It's been over 2 weeks since my sister killed herself.

I no longer hear music in my life.

I no longer see Manhattan's youth drapped in deep reds and vibrant violets.
It all seems dulled.

Its hard to hear the melody in my words.

All but the last few "Why?"s have left me. And now I feel left with a hole that, I suppose, I will come to accept.

I woke up early today and got dressed. I walked through the cold rain for 15 blocks. It was humbling. And comforting. And fitting.

I've lost all sense of where to go from here. Where do I go from here?

We all remember a simpler time. An easier time. A happier time. But it's been so long since then. This is the first day in a long time, when I can stay inside and feel selfish. I sit on this fire escape and want to cry. Because I haven't since I came back to NYC.

This paragraph is for K.

I did write you a letter. A long time ago. And then It stayed in my pocket for weeks. Then a jealous girl ripped it up. And I yelled. For the first time in a long time. I yelled. I think about needing to finish something new for you. And I will.

So for you, and the others who've gotten a note. Or written about this blog online. I write today. For me too. Don't let me seem that selfless. 3 notes. And 1 for K.

"Who do you carry the torch for my young man? Do you believe in anything?"

- N