Singular
Being in New York is like the end game of life. After scaling Mount Everest, and being all alone at the top looking into the abyss, is a sinking feeling of despondence. I am surrounded by similar high achievers who did the same, and it is a bottleneck. We are all waiting for our turns to be the next big thing, because at the end, there are actually thousands of us and we are not that different or unique as it seems. We are traded like commodities, and like fashion trends, our skill sets and looks go in and out of style.
I’ve met a man who was a mirror image of myself. What does all day is to watch endless off Broadway shows whenever he pleases at his own time while directing 400 staff as a dyslexic entrepreneur who does yoga daily. I’ve met lawyers who swear they are living an glamorous life of a working 60 hours a week in the office while volunteering to give free legal advice to those who can’t afford it in on their weekends. I just have to walk less than mile before I bump into a Harvard or MIT grad or PhD holder who is researching or have invented the technology we use daily.
My fascination with men who can dance continues not to fade. When I see a man who dances well embracing a woman in his arms.. it makes me cry. I listen to compositions by Abel Korzeniowski, for it makes me dance to the abyss, to the skies and dream of being in the arms of such a man once again. In the subways, lost in the music, I am found regularly hugging pillars to the visions of such an imaginary lover.
We were eternity, the stars and the beyond. We were cosmic. We were forever. But now, I am alone. I am singular. I am… despondent.
I could only say, “I love you.” to the stars before disappearing away to the next composition that will drift me into my fantasies.
