i still love you. i don't love you anymore. i never loved you. i'm falling in love with you. i could never love you. love is a joke.

i'm in new york. again. i'm doing things like wearing swing coats and jackie o. glasses and silver kitten heels while running errands. i'm doing things like jogging 17k in 2 sessions in 3 days, in long johns and flashdance sweatshirts. i'm doing things like mending fences and burning bridges. i'm eating a lot of cottage cheese and drinking bourbon with impossibly attractive friends in hipster hell.

it looks like work lives here for me, and me will live here for work, eventually. i'm terrified.

i like you. i don't like you. i don't like talking about the things we never did. i don't like thinking about the things we did do. you're not who you think you are. you're exactly who i think you are. i'm a late bloomer. i'm an early adopter. i'm an abrupt abandoner.

i've been in new york long enough that the vendors on canal street have stopped trying to sell me things. i haven't been here long enough that i don't find rats adorable.

thanksgiving in america is making me think about the family i don't talk to. it's making me think about the people i love who aren't family who i do talk to. the odds are that if you are reading this, i love you or once loved you, or almost loved you.

make me love you. i have enough to give. make me hate you. i am due for a cull.

tell me to go. tell me to stay. come with me, and go away.

most importantly, ask me questions, because i have no answers.

i'm everything i never thought i was, in a surprisingly good way.

etc.

love,

me