We're All Afraid

I think about it every time I see someone whose home is the corner of 72nd and Lex and I think I have no idea what I’m doing in this place that houses the person in the penthouse and the one who sleeps beside it. And when I pass them by I think that the story books never told them about this.

Because one day it hits you. Like a truck or a speeding biker on 5th Ave or the deep pangs of regret that happen upon you when you lay awake and night, staring at the ceiling thinking about all the things you should have done, or shouldn’t have, wishing you could go back and change it, rewind, fast forward, delete, become someone else…

…someone on the corner of 72nd and Lex, hand outstretched. It hits that what you were taught about life isn’t the way things are at all.

We have been raised on measures of fear, of reality, of self-hatred. Instructions: use sparingly.

But the thing we’ve been made certain of is the restriction of one thing – our time.

Time in itself, offers very little.

So I think about it, every time I see someone whose home is the corner of something 2nd and anything ave. that maybe we don’t know much, but we know one thing. Because one day life could hit you, bam, like a truck or a speeding bike and there you’ll be, hand outstretched wondering where the hands of the clock have run off to.

And yet, still we’re all of us, all afraid.