december 8, 7:49 P.M.

it's almost eight. I'm a little worried about the future. I've already spent a lot of money, but things come in pieces and I need to learn how to wait. and waiting is torture. when I can't wait I ask people and usually no one can give me an answer that calms me down. it feels like I can't ask the right questions myself. is that a problem? I don't know. the only time I don't get stressed out is when I am stuck in traffic because I know for certain when I am going to arrive. so regardless of how I feel I can't make a choice. I told my boyfriend about this reasoning and he said "that's such a you thing to think" and maybe, he's right. I didn't know there could be a pattern in the way I face impatience. maybe there's a different approach, like not crying on getting scared about it. I am unaware.

I'm going to new york. some time soon. some day. I will be back and I can already feel it. it feels like I'll finally get back home where actually home is just right here, and I am happy here. but new york holds an idea of an infinite universe of possibilities that nothing else in this world seems to have. and this place is true, and it's mine, and it's where I learnt to love and forgive, but it's finite. it's mortal. new york feels like a vampire to me, forever there, alive. 

it's cold. it shouldn't be this cold. it's going to me a fall-ish December, which is weird and beautiful. we don't deserve such a beautiful December after all the things we've been through, but it's okay. maybe there's a fault in my judgement when it come to who is right and who is wrong. all I can say is that I think I don't really know anything at all. I can live with that.