Outside DC
I got on a bus late last night to clear the unread messages because leaving is a great way to answer without saying anything. It’s 4:36PM and I’m at the Red Carpet Inn on the 4th floor just outside DC in a perfectly small nothing room with sheets I won’t untuck, I slept on top of them last night because I wanted to wake up to a made room without seeing anyone. I did the drive last night on the bus and slept for a few hours and got off randomly somewhere towards the end of the ride. I didn’t pack anything, I didn’t tell anyone I was going beyond a text post designed to answer the unread messages cause doing stuff without saying too much is the best reply I’ve got to give anyone. It’s a little dramatic but I sometimes need to do stuff without thinking as a way to refresh everything.
I’m writing and posting this because I need to be seen still and that’s probably the fucked part of me craving closeness while consistently lowering expectations people have of me. I ate an Apple wrapped in plastic from downstairs but it was too ripe so I didn’t finish it. I’m taking a bus back to New York in two hours, I know how pathetic it is, but I still feel strong and in control even if I did all of this just to feel stronger and more in control. Alone beats the not knowing, but when the stakes get too low I try to fall in love all over again. “Swingin Party” is playing on the hotel TV radio channel which makes me stop writing.
“If being alone's a crime, I'm serving forever
Being strong's your kind, I need help here with this feather”
An email from girl comes in right now so I paste it below:
from angel
somewhere in europe
Hi love,
I saw your post—the one at the station. The space between your words felt colder than London. Are you okay? Where did you go? I keep wondering if you’re warm, if you’ve eaten anything, if you’re somewhere safe.
Tour is beautiful but too fast. We land, we sing, we vanish. Everyone's around me all the time, but I still feel far away from everything that matters. Mostly you.
I keep thinking of you under some strange sky and wondering if you’re still real or just a signal I’m waiting for. I guess I just wanted to say: don’t disappear. Don’t float so far you can’t get back. Don’t die, okay?
I’ll write again soon.
—angel
I read the email a few times because the feelings I get from it keep changing and the song just changed to Slowdive.
“Mind games, don't leave me
Come so far, don't lose me
It matters where you are”
I’m going back to New York, I think I feel ready again to do what needs doing.
I’ll write again soon.
I want that email framed on my wall