After graduation, after a divorce, after an election
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Sy Safransky is editor and founder of The Sun.
The city so easy, after all, alive for me like some lover never truly left behind, never truly known: the perfumes, the hidden places, the exquisite fears and sweet temptations of the night.
Confuse love and romance too long and you end up a suicide. Aloneness is the final, undeniable reality of life.
I have wanted you, wanted you, out of what? love? need? true love is not possessive, jealousy is a learned response, but oh god, how to let go? how to love you, not own you, how to let you be?
More jobs in the last year than I can remember, and so little sense, through it all, of any purposeful endeavor, of meaningful labor, of real work.
A cloudy, dreary day, sick with a cold, yet I want to mark the day, the year, to settle old accounts and begin something anew. It is what I am always up to, and I see how foolish it is, and how necessary.