The days pass by. The sun rises sweetly over the water tanks and sets over Jersey. Lights come on and off and A/C units are neglected one by one as fall seeps in through the foliage. I, meanwhile, am none the wiser.
Most days it is enough to revel in the beauty of being here, the simple bliss of existing where your dreams wished for you to be. But in the moments where I stop to catch my breath, I inevitably falter. Some days, the concrete underneath me isn't as sturdy, isn't as safe.
Those are the days when I glance behind me and see ghosts of doubt in the corners of my eyes. They whisper all the unanswered questions I haven't cared to answer; they remind me of the impermanence of my current state. Who are you, and what is it you have come here to do? The straight and not-so-narrow needs you to commit yourself, to take your education and your skills into the 9-to-5 and be done with it. Get a grip. The crooked and less beaten path beckons, reminds you that you have come this far by throwing caution to the wind and wouldn't it be silly to give up now?
This is the moment when I must define myself. When I am no longer safely nestled in a university institution or a steady job. When none of the ties that held me together can guide me and give me purpose. This is the time when I must make my own choice, whatever that is, and go with it. Around me, people are getting married, having babies, setting up the next phase. They move effortlessly to jobs and new tax brackets, while I kick and scream and do anything to resist.
But if you choose not to follow one path, you must choose another. I stand at the fork in the road, longing desperately for a map, a flashlight, I hesitate. I was so sure, so long, and now I am letting the dark woods scare me. New York holds my hand reassuringly but I feel my grasp slip, I am undeserving.
On the uneven cobblestone street, she tripped on her high heel. Recovering, I take a deep breath and carry on.
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precis, precis så.
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