it's the one place on the planet i really never wanted to go. the one place that, upon finding out i would have to visit, made me lose sleep for at least a month. for as long as i can remember, i've had this unfounded fear of the hustle-and-bustle of nyc. so many people. so many places to go. so much rush. the thought of it always left me with a knot in my stomach and an unshakable anxiety.
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i'll post more later about the actual experience there, but for now i can say i survived. but there was one thing that shook me worse than i would have expected, and it set the tone for a week of madness that i had doubts i would make it through. sitting on that plane, staring at the neverending lights of nyc, i wished so badly i could call my dad for strength. it was the worst thing i could imagine, facing that terrifying, gaping city without the safety net of his consoling words. and even though the last few months have eased from sadness into the comfort of forced ignorance, this one moment just about broke me.
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i love to take pictures, and i love that i can almost survive by doing exactly what i love. but for the last few months i've found myself too scared to do it. and if there's anything worse than fear of loss, it's the realization that you've already lost and you have no idea how to save it.
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