I’ve been here for a year now so I think it’s important to evaluate everything.
I never wanted to go to NYU. I never wanted to live in New York. It’s big, overwhelming, lonely, and dirty. I’ve learned to love that it’s big, overwhelming, lonely, and dirty.
My first weeks here I had a couple of panic attacks. I was a ticking bomb, my emotions would give me away. I’d tell myself that I would have to leave. The 150mg of Zoloft wasn’t enough. The Xanax wasn’t enough. I was taking a couple just to feel not so bad. I was becoming nothing. Sedated, but not satisfied.
It got better. Everything does somewhat eventually I think. I made friends, established a routine. I walked to class in rain, in snow, in sadness. I fell in love with people. I made friends. I made connections with people who I’d like to be friends with. There was a lot I wanted to do. Still a lot I want to do.
It got worse. Three-quarters of the way in I felt things collapsing. Everything I had established seemed so distant, superfluous. This is where I am now. I’m leaving New York and I can’t help but be slightly disappointed. Yes, I am happier here than I thought I’d ever be, but I’ve also suffered. I’ve been hurt. I’ve abandoned people and have been abandoned. I have felt lower than ever before, ugly. I won’t pretend that it was all bad. I made some friends, people I definitely like, but I still feel like I’m wearing this dark veil. That everything I think and every way I act is calculated. People here are smart enough to see it.
I don’t know where I stand now. I want to establish relationships next year that last. I want friends who want me too. There’s so much I want to experience. Better sex. Worse sex. Cuisine. But all I can feel at this point is resigned. It’s been difficult. My heart hurts a lot. Still, I’m here. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here. I’m doing it. I’m living in New York alone. I just hope it will all be worth it soon. pls.