An Unwritten New Chapter

Part 1 of X

Today, like most days, I live on from one memory to another. Before falling into deep slumber,I think about the routine I have just come to adhere dearly butleft abruptly. I think about the job I have come to love and the people I have had the pleasure of meeting. Then I wake up, thinking, why is it so bright and where are the old wooden shades? Then I remember that there are no more shades, no more singing birds and no more unusual yet soothing silence… I left them, like most of life’s recent revelations, a thousand miles away.

When I gazed at my first 8:30 PM sunset about a month ago, the force that which kept me afloat from the transition finally ceased—dropping reality’s dead weight on my chubby shoulders. I was finally in New York as planned; and I was going to start a new chapter, said the cliche.

But the literary canvass has remained blank, I’m afraid, and frankly, will remain as such until I stop flipping vigorously through the previous pages. This seemingly perpetual transit is all new to me, and it feels like navigating through unfamiliar seas in spite being fully equipped. Because of this, I have come to know more and more about this person I see in dusty tinted windows and vague marble counter tops.

It seems she is impatient, short-tempered and above all, afraid. She is afraid because she knows that anything is possible now.