Amazing Times Alone
One of my amazing friends left for Europe during the first part of this year. She was my partner in crime and one of my oldest and dearest friends. She left an interesting opportunity to discover myself in a new light. She’s one of those friends that will go with you to and end of the world a back and also take you through that small hole, that vulnerability, into a new world you never knew existed. We’ve had all sorts of adventures together growing into what it means to be beautiful, black, kind, and intelligent.
So when she left, there was this void. Like a piece of my consciousness had been separated. My roll dog, the voice on my shoulder, the funniest part of me, the most adventurous part of me was gone. As I watched her living her best damn life in Europe, I realized I needed to do the same. I was coming off an amazing year, nonetheless. 2017: new job, with fabulous benefits, new hair, exposure to “an elite” class, published and took my first research paper to a conference, went on my first girl’s trip, discovered a budding spiritual self, had a fabulous and strange love affair and now here I am. 2018: on the precipice, with a decision to make and without that adventurous, twisted sister to shore up my logic.
I’m a Richmond girl at heart. I’ve never lived out of the state. I’ve only recently begun to travel. Just at the beginning of self-realization and actualization. Grad school would give me a great opportunity to perfect my craft AND experience my understanding of self in a new place, with new people. So now what do I do now? Count down the days? (Save some money?) Put my big girl panties and make some memories.
I started with happy hours, jazz nights, solo dinners, brunch, movies, and concerts. Once the decisions came in, there were open houses, and meetings with program directors, and students. Airbnb n chill. Washington, D.C., or New York? Walking new streets like I’d known them all my life. My first time in New York City, too afraid to take the train I called an Uber in the pouring rain, trying not to seem amazed by the move and flow of the streets. After two blocks, I was dumped in a corner to fare for myself. The little story of my first time in the city didn’t seem to elicit any enthusiasm (or sympathy). In D.C., I got enough “I’d snatch you up” kind of comments to instill deep fear for a season or two. Even still, I felt powerful on my own.
Loneliness is a fleeting feeling. Solitude brings on a host of emotions: temporary insanity (why the fuck did I go out alone?); fear (what if…monsters); fervor (a sexiness, an eagerness for the adventure—mostly from drinks and good DJs); longing (for someone to share but a moment); and finally freedom (to do whatever the hell you want). I recommend it, if for nothing more than building your emotional range. Something about needing to be careful and self-reliant builds those little hairs on your chest that whiskey only dreams to give. So maybe I’m not really lonely after all. I’m just a girl, little ol’ me… trying to learn what it all really means.
