Tuesday, December 27, 2011

It's not New York's fault.

It took me months to miss New York. I had to leave, travel to many cities, cry in different places- feel bitterly alone, incurable sadness, and utter hopelessness in order to miss it- my home. I should be mad at you really. How dare you die in my hometown? How would you like it if I was found in a Riverside ditch? Would you still enjoy your jog up a mountain? How long would it take you to love your home again? Forgive it? Visit it, and maintain a pleasant demeanor? I guess we'll never know, now will we? 
I get these sudden glimpses of you. Moments from the past. Your eyes, your smile, your ridiculous sayings flash through my mind. It's sudden heartache. I imagine that this is what migraines must feel like. Flashes of sudden pain- uncontrollable. I grab my temple. My heart is broken over and over again. My eyes squeeze shut. 
Accidents happen everyday and I forgive you. 
Of course I forgive you. 
I'll love you endlessly.
And I'll love New York, flaws and all.  
What else can I do?
Your death remains a mystery. I have to forgive you, as well as, every last possible suspect from Brooklyn or beyond. Every last motorist that drives like a douchebag- I forgive you. 
I also have to hold myself accountable for any shitty driving I do on my part from now until forever, and then I have to forgive myself. I also have to forgive the BQE. I have to forgive everything.                  
Everything must be forgiven.