Yes I Am and I Always Will
Her life inspires me to eat a chia pudding with brown sugar. I am acutely aware of my mental illness, how it should not outweigh the grief I am holding. This doesn’t stop any less pain from happening. I decide the workers at this fast casual chain-restaurant in Budapest are my best friends, since I’ve been here for three days straight now. Julia would say this phenomena is akin to when you believe the stripper is in love with you.
I believe the prostitutes in Amsterdam are in love with me. I fantasize about taking one out of the red neon box they live in. An ugly British man taps on the glass until a Romanian bimbo screams with no sound. America is about to go into recession; I spend my savings in Europe before anyone across the pond can take them from me.
I want to be satiated and satisfied, but I leave myself wanting more. Not every action needs a reaction, is what I’ve had to remind myself. Restrict yourself, you might find God. I have managed to withstand more inclement weather than monuments of the old world I’m visiting, but criticism still makes me choke. Everyone has some kind of idea about me, about what I should be doing. If I was a Jack Harlow lyric right now, I’d be this one:
I don't clear up rumors (ayy), where's y'all sense of humor? (ayy)
I'm done making jokes 'cause they got old like baby boomers
Believe what you want; I just hit the reset button. Nothing happened before Germany and if something did happen before Germany, it totally didn’t change my entire life.
This European salvation is almost done for. The culmination to everything is coming, I know. I go out into the city alone in search of Marlboro Golds for Julia. It takes me four convenience stores to get it right, but a guy in the Red Light District has them. He tries to make a 2 pack deal with me, but I decline haggling and buy myself a black sparkly lighter. I google “how to light a cigarette” and study pictures that appear on my screen. Monkey see, monkey do.
I’m walking through Amsterdam listening to an album I played a lot during our breakup; my Magical Thinking OCD suggests all these songs are cursed. They could easily trigger another Bad Time in my life, but I remind myself that this is the Deluxe Version of the record, released long after my initial misery. Maybe this time it’ll be different. Call it the Extended Version; hope there’s a new song you like enough to keep on repeat.
I feel the heavy smoke in my lungs. I skulk around by myself the way I’ve done in every place I’ve ever been. I’m listening intently to the sound in my ears:
It's closing time and I'm leaving You're holding on to someone new Are you still picking up the pieces? Am I still worried 'bout you?
Why, yes, I am and I always will
Maybe I should’ve died on the April Fools’ Day plane I boarded. Maybe I should’ve thrown my phone into the canal when I had a chance. Nothing measures up to the limerence of waiting on you, except maybe the reality of that feeling I get from you. It’s a sharp inhale of breath, like when I take myself to the ER for chest pains amounting to nothing. Both of these things cost me my money, a little bit of dignity.
I love the sound of that plucky guitar coming through my headphones, I love being utterly alone in a place everyone is together. I walk as fast as I can to nowhere.
Am I guilty? Am I sorry? Do I miss you at the party? Am I dragging this forever? Am I thinking 'bout September?
The city loops into itself; I’m ending up on the same streets at a different time, over and over again. It’s beautiful, though. How many people get to see something like this once in their lives, let alone twice? Can you blame me for wanting more?
Am I wrecking reputation While you're making reservations? Am I lying to my mother That someday I'll find another?
I’ve got a lot of people to warn. I’ve got a lot of people to come clean to. It’s sort of like the 12 Steps, but I can do anything in 2 or less. I made the world a show and then I cancelled it. I returned my rental bike to see just how far I can make it on foot. I don’t need anybody to approve, I just need a little bit more time.
It’s become stranger than fiction, but everything worth something always is. I couldn’t make it up if I tried, and maybe that scares you. It scares me. I wonder how much of my previous life was measured in fear. I wonder if I’m finally the kind of free you like and, if I’m not, how many more wrecking balls smashed into my life does it take?
I’ll stop asking questions. I’ll start enjoying what I can. If somebody asked me one, though, I wouldn’t be afraid to answer. Maybe they’d ask about what they don’t understand. Something like: are you going to keep doing all this for a feeling? And I’d say no. God no. It’s unsustainable to always be chasing that one specific gut moment. You either know or you don’t. And then you take the gamble. So, the better question is: am I going to keep doing all this for the one person I’ve been betting on? Well.
Yes, I am and I always will Yes, I am and I always will Yes, I am and I always will Yes, I am and I always will
