Unfinished

Have you ever got that feeling, that usually starts with a thought, or most likely a question – about the unknown, the uncertain? Well that’s me right now, living right in the middle of it, this uncertainty.

This post is coming straight from my heart, unbridled, unleashed by a series of thoughts and triggers – a song, a blog, a city that is now full of nostalgia, and the looming outcome of a decision (made for me).

Not that the song is new, nor is that blog written by anyone I know, and yet somehow I’m just coming across it all, in a way that I’ll never forget, because in this moment, it feels like it is all made for me, to listen, to understand, to feel.

Too often these days while on my New York subway commute, I feel a surge of emotion just take over me, overwhelm me, fill me, until I have to let go, let go of some of it, through my tears.

New York. The city that made me. The city that embraced me in a sense of belonging even before I became a New Yorker. Home. Heart. Here.

I could never take it for granted you know, it meant too much, it means too much. Not many people are lucky enough to feel this kind of connect with a city, far less this city, and even of those, much less who understand it, this connection. Me, like I said, New York made me.

Here is life as I know it, in the pages of my many notebooks, in the words of so many others, in the books on this city, in the air, in the hustle, in the pace of this city, in my work, in my relationships with all the strangers in this city, all of which, are now the essence of this life as I know it, here in New York.

To take me away, it would always be unfinished, this life, as I know it.

I feel my soul tearing apart with every one of these thoughts, and yet it is this very city that holds me together, because like I said, it made me. It changed shades as I changed with it, because of it; every shade, deeper into it, into me.

To take me away, it would all be unfinished, this life, as I know it.

New York inspires and intimidates, consumes yet invigorates; it will be all encompassing and in-comprehensive, all at the same time, and yet through it all, you will nothing less than adore it, for shedding all the skin off of you, till you are nothing but stark naked in your own true skin, and for that, you will be grateful.

And so today New York is me, and I am New York, with every fibre of my being – you may take me away from New York, but you can never take New York away from me.