Its Over When Its Over

I'm hesitant to start righting again. Because I feel I've let myself down by not keeping up.

That being said.

I'm starting again. Because I need to. And I'd like to think. Atleast 2 or 3 of you out there sincerely enjoy it.

When does home stop being home? We've all been there. To me, Union Sq. feels like a forsaken lover. I've shunned it all winter. Cramped into this tiny bushwick apartment, distracting myself with feelings of warm and comfort.

The outside worlds a dirty place. I've come to find. And Angry. And Hurtful.

"Calling all cars, We've got another victim. Because my love has become an affliction. Well what did you expect from me?"

And it's much easier to hide from it.

I know these words break as many hearts as they mend. Thats the cliche, right? The bitter sweet symphony.

"Are you desperate for an answer? I dont have an answer good left in me now."

Do I lose by still needing to write this? I mean. Shit. I love getting this all out. But, should I?

I feel I continue to force myself onward. The plow forth in life. With little time to. Relax? No, thats wrong... To enjoy smiles... Just like the ones you used to get from saturday morning cartoons. That careless bliss.

I found a moment of it this morning, in an "Arnold Palmer" walking to work. Afterwards, arriving, it was something akin to returning to the real world with a sunburn after summering on beaches in costa rica.

Well, out here. Its hard to come by. But you, Friends(?), give me some. Make it feel okay to be wrong. Be bad at something. Not need to be perfect.

So Thanks.

You kinda mean the world. So I won't short you. I'm back.

- N