“You think you see me, don’t believe your eyes. That’s just a shell I left behind.. I’m no runaway, this is just a game I play. I want you to find me.” -Unknown

You know… you’d think this self discovery bullshit would have an end date right? Like eventually, you’ve got to figure it out to a manageable extent.. but you never do, do you?

I’m finding inspiration in a weird place right now. It’s 2am, in New York, and I’m sitting outside during my break from the hospital. The scene is something more beautiful than I can express in my limited writing capabilities. Empty intersection, changing street light, giant trees lit up by university lights swaying in a breeze bringing the perfect amount of chill to the air. Cigarette smoke looming around my face and a beautiful song in my ear, peace. I love this city. I love how contradictory it is. It’s loud and gross and crowded, and then it’s this. It’s addicting, never knowing what you’re going to get.

The poetry of it is a little more than I can bear right now. I love this city because I am this city. I’m loud and messy and annoying, I am peaceful and beautiful and silent. This city is confused with who it is and what it stands for, as am I. But maybe that’s just it. The confusion and contradiction is what ultimately makes it make sense. The difference between this place and me is that it owns its dysfunction. It says, here I am in all my fucked up glory, come and explore, see what you find. It’s not insecure, it’s not constantly trying to find a niche to fit nicely within.

I can learn from this place.

Mads.