Future Perfect

I ran along the dark, quiet edge of the city. Somewhere in the distance, the sun was turning the sky into peaches, the water black and everything was quiet. I know it's probably more pleasant to run in the warm afternoon sun, but I prefer to go out late at night, when I have the city all to myself, without intrusion.

I always loved solitude. Even as a child I needed that space, unable to assess while in the midst of social storms, a trait all these years cannot erase. In crowds, my skin dissolves, and I cannot distinguish my own experience from that of those around me. Their voices, their eyes, I get lost. So I run in the dark, I take long walks after the People have gone to sleep, and I reaffirm my love affair with the city.

And that's the thing. People ask me why I love the city so, I who seem to belong in the quietest of forests so much more than in this concrete jungle of unending activity. Some days, when I sway with the rush hour crowds and their dead subway faces, I wonder, too. But that's the thing with love. Sometimes you love despite the flaws, even the big ones. Sometimes, you love because you can't not. You make it work, because you have to.

You make it work, because when your love smiles on you and your heart bursts in giggles, the every flaw, is worth it.