New York, I hate you, jk...unless?
TW: Contains themes of cliché, dramatic literary narratives that have been overdone but is purely mine.
She was the best thing to ever happen to me.
She was old, about 400 years, but she had wisdom beyond her years.
She was graceful, she had strength from withstanding years of deceit, corruption, and love.
She shone bright, to make sure that no one ever felt alone.
But she failed me, and I felt so alone, because she was gone.
Preface:
During the pandemic, I often yearned to come back to New York City. I wasn’t myself back in forestal suburbia. I had just got out of a serious relationship and it took a toll on me and my mental health. I tried to replace the void by hanging out with my friends, which I had almost lost throughout the course of my relationship. I tried fueling my energy into writing and singing, to distract myself from feeling lonely. I would fight with my parents, crying that I needed to go back to school because I felt incomplete. No matter what I tried or how I behaved, nothing could take away from the fact that I wasn’t in New York City, reliving those same memories I had made in my freshman year, but in a bigger and better way. I knew the world was hurting, but I was too, and I’m allowed to be a little selfish right?
I know what it feels like to lose yourself in the hustle and bustle of New York City. This project is my attempt to recapture how I felt living in New York City this semester, as I felt my life reaching a sense of normalcy once again.
I found that I had her back, But was I really happy?
Procedure:
1. Due to my horrible sleep schedule, around 2AM every single night I write a word to sum up how the day felt to me. I compile all the words and create a poem. The poem makes no sense but it does to me.
2. I realize that I’m better off not writing poetry, and keeping my thoughts to myself.
3. I then regret making this public and cry about it, profusely apologizing to those that don’t understand my thoughts. I’m a cancer. This makes perfect sense.
4. I feel relieved and continue using poetry as my emotional outlet no matter how bad it sounds. My name is Kavya, it means poetry, this also makes sense.
The Product:
Wandering through what seems like the end
To find myself in yesterday
But then I look towards tomorrow and applaud her
For all she has achieved today
Things seem unclear, the location is unknown
But all I can now think about
Is how much I already know
So for that girl who once looked me in the eye
Don’t be afraid to fall before you grow
Epilogue: I know this might be another cliché attempt to capture the essence of what it means to live in New York City and it is. But it is so much more than that. It is: a small town girl with big dreams moves to New York City, falls in love and develops a toxic relationship with the island. She leaves and feels incomplete, but she comes back and feels happy. It is an endless cycle- she hates New York but she loves it. I hate New York but I love it.
