Two years later, I have walked out that door and moved to New York City. I have moved to my sanctuary, feeling a certain comfort by just being here. The feeling this city gives you never leaves you, it gave me the power to survive another year in Shanghai, while maintaining my personal nirvana, and then move to New York City, thousands of miles away from the life that I knew. All this while, I have been able to keep myself intact. I have been to hold on to that feeling I felt two years ago.
I never thought I would question myself again. Question who I was- whether who I am is right or wrong, whether I am good enough or not, whether I should be a different person. I have come back to the mentality- there must be something terribly wrong with me.
I have constantly asked myself, how could this be possible? I live in my sanctuary. I live in the city that has saved my soul. How can I be on the brink of where I was before? And then it hit me- no matter where you live, whichever city is your sanctuary; your love for someone will always trump that feeling.
They say New York is for lovers, and I whole-heartedly agree. It may not be Paris, but it has the potential for so many beautiful memories- whether that be a dinner in the Meatpacking district, watching the sunset from the Highline, getting lost in Central Park, kissing on an intersection or even being cooped up in your apartment with a movie. These beautiful memories are not created by the locations themselves, but rather by the person you are sharing them with. I say New York is for lovers because I found that person. The person that makes staying home and snuggling in bed on a Saturday night exciting.
When I say I found that person, I do not mean I was looking for him. He just came into my life and stole my heart. He made me feel a lot of things I had not felt, even things I wasn’t ready to feel. He opened up my world to a whole new paradigm. I least expected it, but loved every bit of it. Every moment spent with him was beautiful. Whether those moments were spent having fun, fighting, sleeping- it didn’t matter. There was just a certain comfort in those moments because he was in them. Much like the feeling New York gives me- a comfort in just being here. My love for him is so great; there are no words to describe how I feel with him in my life.
There are also no words to describe how they are without him. I have lived in New York for a year; he has been in my life for 4 months out of that year. Nonetheless, New York has changed its colors since he hasn’t been. They say New York is for lovers, and while I whole-heartedly agree, I say it’s for lost souls too.
I’m no longer a racehorse, who has enforced goals to see. I have no rider on top of me to tell me where to go. I’m running in the wild, unable to see where I have to go or what I should do. I’m running wild in the wild. My wild thoughts have started to ask questions I don’t want them to. Am I wrong? Am I not good enough? Am I not pretty enough? Do I not love enough? Why can’t he love me? There must be something wrong with me if I have done everything I can think of and he still can’t love me. There MUST be something terribly wrong with me.
But this is the new Sonal, the post 2012 Sonal. I need to believe in myself or try to at least. I keep wondering if things would have been different if I had met him at a different point in his life. If things would be different had I not left for Shanghai in between? If things would be different if he truly loved me. I keep wondering and wondering, these thoughts haunting me while I’m awake and in my dreams.
Did I really make it that easy for him to walk right in and out of my life? Why does he get to just walk away and leave me in pain? Why does he get a free pass? This isn’t a game of Monopoly.
It’s funny how love works- it’s supposed to be beautiful, but little do people know there is a whole lot of agony that comes along with it.
Its come to a point where I need to accept that this is over, but how do I do that? How can I allow someone I love to walk out of my life? I can’t force him to stay, I can’t force him to love me, then why can’t I just accept it?
When I was 11 years old, on vacation somewhere in Europe, I saw a statue of a woman by the river. The guide told us that there used to be a woman and a sailor madly in love, and when the sailor went off to sea, she waited by the water every evening, in hopes of him coming back. She waited so long that she eventually turned into stone. I never understood that- why wait when you know there is no chance of him ever returning? The whole concept flew over my head.
I never understood it till now.
I return to my old smoking spot under Third North occasionally, in hopes of him coming around the corner and walking towards me. I know its silly; there are no chances of that happening. But that’s the thing with love; your love is so strong that it stops you from giving up hope. Hoping that maybe, just maybe, that person will realize that they love you too and come back to you.
I’m still hoping and I can’t seem to stop.
I’m lost in this limbo between hope and reality, I’ve lost track of who I am, what I’m doing, where I’m going.
They say New York is for lovers, but its for lost souls too and I’m a lost soul, lost hopelessly in love, trying to find my way in darkness, running wild in this concrete jungle. The only comfort I get is that New York is my sanctuary, and it has saved my soul once. I’m holding on to the hope that it has the potential to do that once again.