Life would be so much easier if it were scripted. But then, it would be precictable and probably a bit boring.
The rules today just don’t seem to add up to the rules I was taught and have been following. Do I call? Text? If I wait around, I’ll be waiting around forever. But if I call, am I being pushy, or getting the ball rolling? Do I want to be the one who has to get the ball rolling? Is it fair to always expect someone else to get the ball rolling? I’m trying to let things happen naturally, but what is “naturally?”
Why is it that someone I’ve known for such a short time soothes me? Why is it that I find myself sitting here, wishing I were in the city? Why do I find solace in a city that I once loathed?
Is it possible, truly possible, that I am growing roots here? I always assumed my roots would grow deep somewhere else. I never thought that Philadelphia would be where I would want to be. Yet, when I am in the city, I am able to breathe. I feel alive. When I am in suburbia, I feel anxious, as if the walls are closing in.
I may drive into the city just to breathe in the air. At 9:30 at night. Peculiar. I need to find that apartment. ASAP.
Deneen White 