October 2, 2016

“What’s your favorite food?”

“Seafood. Why?”

“Because that’s what we’re going to eat.”

That’s what went through my mind in my drunken haze, when the colors exemplified the beauty of nature. When the breeze prickled my thighs, dressed in a celebratory silk black dress and my neon pink birthday sash that read “Birthday Diva” and Goddamn, for the first time I could truly say I felt it. I felt it as I clicked my two inch leather booties on the pavement, I felt it within my core self. I was strung high on confidence, independence, and the feeling of womanhood. Up until then I had enjoyed my youth. I basked in feeling void of responsibilities, void of reality, of distress, of the true portrait that makes humanity in all its conscious vileness, corruption, and chaotic deteriorating empathy. I humbled my character, melted myself into a controlled substance of priorities. Innocent ignorance is the purest kind I know and I had longed for it since I was old enough to speak. You see, I had always been exempt of the luxury of this pure tranquility. My exposure to the truth of what human tribulations were revealed themselves to me at a young age. So any opportunity that presented itself to me in which I could be “pure” again was an opportunity that I reveled in. That night I threw away my constant need for something I hardly had known. I relished in the amplified nightlife of adulthood as Times Square presented itself to me; I saw with my pixelated eyes yellows, blues, reds, and a sequence of other hues which protruded beneath the blank dark sky. I saw the street signs, the crowds, the men, the women, the amiable subtle grazes of skin, the intrigued glances, my friends, their drunken happiness, their laughs, their love. I absorbed the energy around me; the blissful atoms of the universe that interacted reflected themselves to me, as in, “Here. Take it. The night is yours tonight.” I deserved it, the universe told me so. So why did that conversation cross my mind that night? Such a seemingly trivial snippet of conversation was jagged enough to cut through my newly liberated sense of self. Yet there it was, in my thoughts. Perhaps because of the undertone in the simplicity of it all; the calmness of our night, two strangers, strolling, contrasted to that of mine. Or perhaps, it was a sign, that I do not need a night of yearly celebration to feel as though I am. Because, in truth, I already am. The energies will reflect what I deserve as I feel it. You had searched your phone for a spot, a seafood spot and although the place we found was not it, I marveled at the gesture. You opened your thoughts to me about spirituality and existence, life and experiences. Regardless of the unrequited interest, the universe spoke to both of us that evening.


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