Questions you ask yourself at 8:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning

1. Where to next? I feel like I figured out NYC. Everything now is just a repetition of something I’ve already done or seen or know. I’m a fast learner.

2. With whom do I belong? I know I don’t belong with the squares. What makes them happy drives me crazy and I’m not really interested in being someone’s pet oddity.

I had a dream this morning about mountains in Tucson. It wasn’t telling me to go back. It was telling me who I am.

I’ve been progressively getting weaker since January to the point where I spend most of my week on a heating blanket in bed. It’s not living. It makes me angry.

Going to doctors makes me angry.

Being alone makes me angry.

Everyone thinking that anemia isn’t a big deal makes me angry.

Wasting any more of my life makes me angry.

I want to move to Mexico. It’s the next scary thing I want to do. I’ve been sending J all these architectural features I’d want in a house and they’re all whitewashed concrete minimalist spaces with rough-hewn wooden accents.

I don’t feel like I have a long time to live. I could live forever but I can’t force my body to behave and it keeps wanting to give up on me. I’m grateful for it. But it wears me out to be weak all the time. NYC isn’t for the weak of body.

I wouldn’t mind being alone. Just as long as I could look at the stars at night, feel the heat on my shoulders, and live cheaply.

You’ve got one more season, NYC. And then I think it might be time to go.

Now back to sleep. I wake up more exhausted than I go to bed.

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