WEBSITE: http://www.crilaure...
LOCATION: New York
RECORDS: 8
LATEST RECORD: over 1 year ago
JOINED: July 19, 2009
LOCATION: New York
RECORDS: 8
LATEST RECORD: over 1 year ago
JOINED: July 19, 2009
|
I walk faster that other people in this new town. I walk with quick strides that are longer than my legs are, and I keep my eyes on the floor at all times. My eyes stay fixated at the slab of pavement that I'm about to step on. I only look up just enough to make sure I don't ram into someone. I walk like people from Manhattan do. I walk faster than I probably should, and I never wait for streetlights to change. I jaywalk constantly and cross the streets between cars instead of at the designated corners. I race from one corner to the other because even if I don't have a destination in my mind set out, I just want to get there. There are numbers of people like me and all of them are faceless and nameless and avoid eye contact because they're concentrating on inner monologue. We're part of the city. We make its heartbeat and give it a soul. It makes us a little. It makes us a little jaded, a little rough on the edges. It gives you experience you never asked for and in the back of your mind you know that despite the allegations thrown at New York's way, you never want to live anywhere else. We're too busy to smile. Here in this new town, people wave to each other and make chitchat on street corners. The motorists slow down at corners and give you the right of way; waving you on and smiling while mouthing the words "Go ahead". All these things strike me as odd. I guess they always will. Today in particular though, as I was walking too fast and not smiling enough, I looked up for a second because I saw two pairs of feet walking towards me. One belonged to a guy and the other pair belonged to short and stout girl. Since the sidewalks are narrow, I moved over and walked half on the grass as I passed them by. I must have gotten two steps past them, when I heard him call out over his shoulder. "Hey, you look depressed." I'm not kidding you. Those were his exact words. Someone I don't even know said that and all I did was turn around, tuck my hair behind my ear, laugh and smile at him. That was all. No words exchanged between us asides from that. I doubt I'll ever see him again. The thing is that I can remember people asking me that for what seems like forever. When I was small everyone thought I was sad. Upon going up, the question I got asked the most was probably, "Are you all right?" or "Are you sad?" and even "What's wrong?" Even now I get it all the time, so often in fact that I stopped answering these questions. I guess people's misconceptions have some sort of truth to them. My down-turned mouth makes me look like the sad girl. The music I listen to makes people think I'm melancholy and recluse. I write paragraphs that stem from one sentence a stranger said to me on my way home. |
|
|
