new york, baby [h.s.]

chapter one

I had never felt less confident than I did in New York City. I averted my gaze when I walked down the street and on the train, I kept my headphones in at all times in case someone tried to talk to me or yell at me, which happens more often than you think. I walked quickly at all times, the anxiety pulsing through me, propelling me through every sidewalk and crosswalk at every time of day or night. I had moved here hoping that the extreme difference in culture from my hometown from New York would increase my confidence and reduce my anxiety, but I had yet to find where I fit in here. Back home, I knew everybody. I knew which parts of town to avoid, and I knew where I belonged. Everything came naturally to me there, and yet, I found myself aching to leave and never come back. It was all I had ever known. I was comfortable, but something about the comfort I had always felt brought me anxiety. I feared that I would never get to experience life if I never left. My friends and family back home agreed with me when I expressed this. They knew there was something about me that didn't belong there entirely, no matter how much I tried to fit in. I didn't know where I belonged, truly, but it wasn't there. They pleaded with me to leave, not because they didn't want me there, but because they knew I wouldn't leave and chase that feeling that I had always had in my chest to go live just because I felt guilty for leaving. The day I left, I cried harder than I ever had. It was one thing for me to say goodbye to those who had died, but it was entirely another to say goodbye to everyone I loved who still walked among the living. They were my comfort, my peace, my way of knowing. They had cried, too, but did not beg me to stay, but instead had to convince me to go, encouraging me to be brave and making me promise not to forget them. I had laughed at that, knowing I could never forget these people.

I kept true to my promise. I keep in touch with all of my friends and family back home, feeling a pang of guilt in my chest when they tell me the stories of everything I have been missing out on. They promise me that I'm not missing out on anything, that nothing has really happened besides the day-to-day occurrences that happen to everyone that lives there and in every small midwestern town in America. Nonetheless, I ached for them, longed for them.

"Helloooo? Where'd you go, babe? You're far away again," Sid asked, yanking me out of the deep thought I had gotten lost in.

"I'm here, I'm here," I muttered, shaking my head to further pull myself back into reality. I looked up slightly and found that my knuckles were white from gripping too tightly onto my own intertwined fingers. I made a point to visibly relax myself for Sid's sake, who had a worried look on her face. "Sorry, Sid, I didn't mean to tune you out."

Sidney smiled at me sympathetically, bracing her hand on my knee as the train came to a stop. Our stop. She looped her arm into mine, helping me up. We followed the rest of the people getting off, stepping onto the platform, bracing ourselves against the cold air that immediately met our faces. I used my free hand to wrap my coat against myself tightly.

"What were you thinking about this time, doll? Home again?" Sid asked, matching my pace. She walked fast naturally, not because she was being propelled by anxiety, but because she was a native New Yorker and couldn't fucking stand when people walked slowly, vowing to never be one of those people.

"Yeah, I was thinking about home again," I admitted, placing my free hand on her upper arm.

"Oh, babe. You sound guilty."

"I feel guilty."

"Why? Because you left that shitbox hometown of yours and came to the greatest city in the world to actually experience something?" She said, a melodic laugh erupting from her. She bounced slightly in her walk, jostling me, encouraging me to match. I narrowed my eyes at her, but laughed along, matching her bounces.