h2>Dating : Sunsets in Strange Cities
The sky seemed to be painted with watercolors that night. The oranges, purples, and pinks effortlessly bled together to create a collage of pastels draping the evening sky. Sometimes I think mother nature likes to show off a little, not in an attention-seeking fashion, but more as a reminder. We can surge through the endless tasks that seem to be compounding by the second — get lost in the chaos that makes up our lives — but if we just take one moment to look up, we can remember the bigger picture. We can remember that we are just one person in an entire universe, and whatever is currently consuming and haunting us will pass.
I found solace and sanctity in the sky that night as I sat on the quiet roof of my apartment building. The wind was incessantly blowing and causing my hair to tickle my face. Goosebumps threatened to emerge on my bare legs. It seemed that despite all of my efforts, I could never dress appropriately for the weather in this strange new land, and tonight was no different. I wore black running shorts, a pair of vans, and a beat-up gray hoodie from high school. The lettering on the front with my school logo curled and bent as it fought to break loose from the fabric it had clung to for so many years. It felt odd to think that this old sweatshirt had somehow made it through the past six years with me and across the country. It was comforting and conflicting to wear. It brought back so many memories of late-night football games, midnight runs to In-N-Out, and road trips with friends. It was as if nostalgia was stitched into every inch of this artifact. And as fleeting and whimsical as those memories were, they also brought the bitter remembrance of how much had changed.
I leaned back against the weathered wall and closed my eyes, listening to the cacophonic symphony of horns, voices, and the city. I could feel my high slowly settling in, carefully tucking my worries away one by one. I listlessly rolled the dimly-lit joint between my thumb and forefinger — back and forth, back and forth. I could feel myself gently giving in to the unrelenting emotions that had been begging to break free all day. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel them threatening to spill over with firey tears. This was a new level of anguish, and I wasn’t so sure what to think.
Before I knew it, my face was streaked with traitorous tears. There was no sobbing though — no screaming — not a sound. It was as if the pain was simply trickling out of my body. I had reached full capacity. Without opening my eyes, I tenderly wiped away my tears with my threadbare sleeve. Because in this life, we don’t always have the luxury of someone else to wipe them for us.
Without my permission, my body released a sigh of exhaustion. What did I think I was doing? Did I honestly think I could make it out here on my own? If I was so terrified of ending up alone, why did I move to a place where I literally didn’t know a soul? I couldn’t help but wonder if what others praised as a “leap of faith” was really a masochistic rouse of proving to myself how alone I really was.
The wind was picking up now, and my goosebumps no longer threatened to appear, they dotted every inch of my pale, dry legs. I looked to my left and grabbed a donut from the dilapidated box sitting beside me. I had always thought the “munchies” were a hoax or a wives tale, but I could now attest to their validity. The crunch of the glaze and the soft pastry seemed to melt into my mouth. If sadness was leaking out of me, maybe I could remedy it by putting happiness into me. And if anything is made of happiness, it had to be donuts.
Suddenly my phone flashed and pulled my attention away from the glazed piece of bliss I was feasting upon. Immediately I hoped it was him. Deep down — or maybe not even that deep — I knew it wouldn’t be, but I couldn’t keep my mind from wandering there.
