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Tonight I’ve never felt so alone.

After walking three avenues in the pouring rain to the 6 train and then the cross-town bus, I couldn’t have felt more like someone with no one.

Walking to my apartment from Columbus to Amsterdam, wine in a wet paper bag, in my soaked through moccasins– I just stepped into every city sidewalk puddle on the side of the road, what was the point? I was already wet and soaked to the bone.

Should I have been surprised that that passing truck hit a deep pool of rain water and splashed all over me and my cargo coat? Should I ever have even cared? Who was watching?

Who is looking out for you? No one is looking out for you. I am slightly wine-infused now, maybe a blanket for my anger. Maybe that’s why I’m rambling–but nothing can make you feel more alone than being on a New York City sidewalk, far from home, alone, with no one to have your back.

Everyone you thought loved you is safe and snuggly wrapped up in a cab, in a cab to somewhere else. That cab that takes credit cards. I am alone. You are alone. This is life.

Maybe at 24 I will rethink the 23 things. Maybe at #24 is the ultimate lesson: there is no one.

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