I know. It's been a while. To be honest, it's because I wasn't sure how to begin this post. I started with the usual routine of snarky comments, deep quotes, and hypothetical questions.
But I kept writing and deleting, unsatisfied with what felt like a disingenuous and superficial start.
Then, after I'd looked over what was finally written, I hated it. The memories didn’t connect, and the message I’d wanted to share poked loosely through over-dramatic one-liners. I knew I wanted to write this post exactly one week ago, but I kept putting it off, kept changing the gimmick, the catch, the theme.
Not sure where to begin or how to frame the racing thoughts and adrenaline that led to my reflections.
I wanted this post to be about infinite moments. You know the kind? From Perks of Being a Wallflower?
I wanted this post to be about infinite moments, those sparse few seconds scattered in our lives where the world aligns and things just feel...just feel…right. Things feel right.
Okay even. And okay as one of the best things to ever happen.
Nothing is solved of course, but your heart weighs less heavy against your ribs, you feel more yourself than you've ever been and life seems suddenly potent.
Forgive the dramatics, I finally started writing this on a rainy Sunday evening whose weather demanded gravitas. Even where I've been writing feels important: first on the subway, my usual seven train filled with the festive stench of beer from Halloweekend, then finished in a near empty bakery just off Times Square, nearing midnight.
Yeah. Times Square. As in neon lights and slightly-creepy M&M costumes and knock-off Avengers. As in New Year’s ball drop and jam-packed sidewalks.
As in the tacky. The inauthentic. The “New York” that only tourists line up to see and locals hate. Right now, though, even this local can see the appeal. Right now I’m pretty faceless, just another writer in a coffee shop in a city of goddamn cliches and dreams. And for that reason I feel unbelievably filled with potential. I could be anyone. What’s more?
I am myself, and I could become anyone.
For this post, I first wrote about three memories. Three infinite moments that I believe shaped me as a person:
Memories so important to me sat stale, unable to be shared on a blog. I had the momentary panic of “God if I can’t even write about all my emotional shit, then I can’t write period.” But that’s not true. I think I was just reluctant to show the extent of my vulnerability, especially in what should be a shorter format.
I was reluctant to screw up what maybe is a life story. To show who I am.
Because if we’re being honest, infinite moments are when we finally recognize ourselves. When our hopes and wants and mistakes and doubts, when all the life we’ve carried with us levels out until we’re left with our reflection.
Sometimes that reflection is in other people—listening to a live band sing lyrics that gave you a voice when you thought you’d lost your own. Sometimes it’s in our past—watching cousins get ready for their first day of school the way you had with your friends, a surreal flashback to your first steps into the real world.
Sometimes it’s in our actions—a letter you may regret but can never take back…and why should you regret what you feel in your chest anyway?
So go ahead.
Just take a risk, let yourself feel awe, feel larger than the universe, feel small. Let yourself look stupid even.
I wish I could explain more…but maybe these moments are meant to be woven into something longer than a blog post. And I hope you have those same kinds of moments, the kinds that we struggle to share.
I hope you realize your own potential, shocked by the things you can accomplish. I hope you stay up remembering what it felt like to be fifteen and screaming questions to the world. I hope you run toward the hammering in your heart. I hope you feel endless. I hope. I hope.