I know what I mean.

I’ve been at a loss for words.

I tell myself (and others) that I’ve just been too busy with other things to write, but the truth is that I’ve been too overwhelmed by everything to focus.  How can I even start to relate all this life with simple words on a page?

Almost two years I’ve lived in New York City, and in these two years I feel like my life has grown exponentially more complex, or that the hidden complexities of my life finally rose to the surface, insisting to be seen.

What a mess it all is.  What a beautiful horrible mess.  And it’s not going to get any smaller, so I might as well make the biggest horrible mess I can, so big that the individual parts become indistinguishable from one another, blurring together until it all just becomes one massive thing––my life.

I know what I mean.

And perhaps I put too much stock in love, but I’d rather continue to cling to my belief that most people put too much stock in everything else.

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