Chapter and Verse

Haven't felt inspired lately. Taking one from the archives of random writings not originally intended for web view.

She asked me why I came here. In her habitually upbeat voice, she told me how dumbfounded she was when, unlike all the times she said her daughter was living in New York City, the woman actually asked her why. She asked me why I came here like it was the first time the thought had occurred to even her.

Occurring in my mind on a daily basis, the answer to why I came to live in New York City had yet to be articulated, but always to be known somewhere on the tablet of my mind. Twenty-one had seemed a milestone of age before I had reached twenty, and now it seemed younger than any age I had been before. My skin had an oily sheen and a suppleness that could not be concealed. The baby fat still remained on my chubby and rosy cheeks. My evident youth was noted by the delivery men and loiters on the street as they emphasized my beauty in some oral fashion. While I for that reason, combined with the adult nature of New York and the working world, wished that I could conceal every faucet of youth, while at the same time look and feel beautiful in the way that mature seasoned New York women seemed to be.

Two weeks past my twenty first birthday, I had signed a lease on a basement apartment in the upscale Brooklyn Heights neighborhood of New York City. Just one day prior, I was hired for my first salaried job. It happened one month to the day following my graduation from college, and it had all happened so quickly that the question of why remained distant from my signatures on the many dotted lines.

I signed again and again as I made credit card purchase after credit card purchase. I owned a bed. A bookcase. A desk. Dishes.

Why?


Today's Song: Mint Car, The Cure