It’s a warm autumn day, sticky underneath the layers of wool. It was presumed that there’d be a gust of wind amongst the sunshine. Walking down East River blocks of bodies march up and down the streets, smelling of salt, all tuning into their day, a long journey of what becomes of their life. None the same. A man wearing an all black suit, steamed flat. Possibly walking back from his own fathers funeral. A thin woman, height similar to mine, then I noticed her heels lifted. Three inches of stilettos carry her weight, supporting the sway in her hips as she walks. First day at the office. A young adolescent in a gown, cheerful smile. Must be graduating today. Congrats. Everyone different still somehow the same, we all merge in each other’s lives. Today of all days, a day that's bitter sweet, apprehensive, dreadful. Faces of sweat scrunches at the dishonesty of the meteorologist this morning, we all shuffle up or down the hill trying to make it to our destination. Thought we’d be bundled up by lunch time and here we are sweating through pounds of layers at nine in the morning. A kid begins to howl a cry, five or six, doesn't matter, it’s only acceptable for a child to react so sensitively over the burning weather than a grown man like me. They climb up the hill while I’m digging my heels to walk against gravity. The mother picks up her son, clinging him onto her hip, shushing his cry silent. I, and the rest of London, continue strolling. The child's voice echoes away from my ear and more bodies take its place, replaced by a vibrant sound of laughter or phone calls about today's work meeting at three, don’t be late, it needs to be done today. The sounds of a normal day beginning.

Despite the sudden change in weather or the regular regime of programming, pounds of bodies walking the east street, conversations held of office tasks, kids crying, today isn’t a regular day. Today is the lingering destruction of the events that took place a year ago. The twenty-eighth year of my life. Of awakening. Becoming. Who? I’m not sure I’m fond of him, but something had happened to me and I haven’t been the same since. Or maybe something unlocked. A secret that's always been stored inside, the corners of desperate desire only to be found when I needed it the most. Unfortunate it led me to such a disaster that must be dealt with today.

I turn into a new street filled with a stream of small businesses all connected to one another, mainly cafes and boutiques. This morning seems so ironic. How similar this day is as if I’ve already lived it. The same morning stroll that starts off by a soft alarm, officially awoken by my cat's brown coat rubbing my chin. Insisting on being fed, I carried her out to my kitchen, a short distance from my bedroom. She ushered through my legs, pacing back and forth as I worked on the counter. She eventually is fed. I go in the shower. Hot, steamy condensation builds on the mirror as I bathed under the running water. Bathroom smelling of shampoo. Towel hung beside the mirror. I took it once I was out, wrapped it around my waist, tucked inside my hip, and faced my reflection. A clouded version of myself stared back at me, dripping cold and wet. I wasn't looking forward to today as I stared at my soulless eyes, hollow almost. I haven’t seen whatever youth is left since last year. Since her.

(would love opinions and thoughts xo)