Today is Monday and that means I am going to be leaving Vermont in 6 days. I have one more therapy appointment, one more hair appointment, a few more moments with friends, and less than a week left with my entire family. I have been very lucky to be able to wake up and see my mom, my dad, and my brother, to live 10 minutes away from my best friend. That's like a dream come true; the trouble is, it's a dream where I don't assume responsibility for myself. I haven't been living in reality.
I know that living in New York will be harder, much harder, much colder and crueler, but the pain of atrophy is that it's a slow, dull, wasting away of yourself. On Saturday, there was a horrible, gruesome murder of a woman in her 60s, who was doused in a flammable liquid, and then left to burn to death, trapped in an elevator by her assailant, who was, yes, a black man.
Do I think it's a sign? No. There have been many times when I have thought occurrences, coincidences were signs, but they weren't. I think there may have been a few true signs, but I just don't know them yet. This could be a sign. The mugging could be a sign. But am I going to let that stop me? Fuck, no. I can live in fear, or I can live and I can control my own anxieties and my fears. That scared girl, who's always looking behind her back? That's not me. I'm careful and I'm cautious, but I'm the one that's in control.
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