Start spreading the news, I’m leaving today
I spilled a bit of coffee on my hardwood floor this morning, the hardwood floor
I once clung to for dear life before I even had a bed. I rubbed it into the grooves, as though the tortured young artist equivalent of pouring one out for my homies.
And all the songs there are in the world about coming and going and saying goodbye will be played on repeat, and if I cry, it will be for hope, for thankfulness, not for sadness.
As for now, my eyes are dry. I kissed the floor, gathered my things and left, like a fashionable little cat burglar, and a bad one at that for leaving things behind instead of fleecing the place.
And it is not goodbye forever. I don’t think I believe in anything that supposedly “lasts forever” anymore. And as I stood firmly on my little corner of my little New York, eyes set on crying, arm raised triumphantly, I almost didn’t want the taxi to come.
But only almost.
It is never a mistake to move to New York. It is never a mistake to leave New York.
