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back at it

It’s December 22nd, 2016.  I’m on a bus home, cruising down 95 in the middle of Connecticut? Massachusetts? Somewhere.  It’s that very specific winter sort of grey out- as if there’s a lingering snow shower somewhere out in the distance.  Typically the bus rides have been therapeutic for me, however today I’d beg to differ.  I showed up hungover and drunk from last night.  Speaking of last night, it’s all a blur.  Sometimes I just can’t hold my shit together and I do things like last night.  As far as I can tell, no harm done to me or anyone I love and care about.  Just a lost hat, some misplaced or mis-spent cash, and an aching suspicion I may have said some stupid things.  I’m sure I was in a particularly ripe mood- I could feel myself growing more agitated by the second.  Honestly, I’m not entirely sure what’s gotten into me, but I feel as though maybe there’s something to be gained from sitting down and writing again.  So thus, this very much untitled blog has resurfaced.  It’s definitely one of those super self-consumed me me me blogs.  But it also intends to explore urban loneliness in millennials in Brooklyn.  It’s more than likely going to traverse the ugly world of dating and Tinder, and taking goddamn risks IRL too.

Now flurries are fluttering past the window, scenes of New England rurality rushing past, the bus is quaking, it’s very rickety.  I’m starting to wonder more about the meaning of life, why some people are more naturally outgoing and others are painfully shy.  I’m starting to wonder about my angst, my mood swings, my overall ups and downs.  I’m starting to wonder now about the people who live off of Exit 72 in Connecticut.  I wonder what their lives are like in comparison.  I’m also thinking of H and how we’ve gotten here.  It’s like we’re at this strange tipping point where things are so up in the air and too many games have been played and overall uncertainty reigns supreme. And then of course there’s C- a constant in my life since 2013.  The person who I will aways love despite the fact that he doesn’t deserve it.  I’m always waiting for him to prove me wrong.

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