Chaos

NYC, 2025.

Its peaceful here, in my apartment.

Its quiet, and I remain undisturbed.

But there are times when I do need to step out.

And this is how I know when I stepped foot into the real world: Cars honking, people walking past each other, or they’re screaming and shouting. People don’t really look at each other, they wouldn’t even care if someone fell off the face of the earth from there; business as usual.

I hate the view at times, but appreciate the subtext that nobody else sees. They would complain about how crowded it is here, that they need more space. I already grew up in those sort of conditions, and its fallacious.

So then why do I like staying in my apartment, especially if the outside sounds too combative and unaccommodating? Its a simple question with a complex answer;

Everything I have ever known that was good in my life, is better here. And its not just the safety from threats outside, but the safety of ideas that I could protect. When you grow up with a specific kind of oppression, you bide your time here, so that when by the time you’re ready to enter a world that wants to fight you, at least you have the composure you need.

Once the badness attempts to impose itself on me outside, I retreat and go home, feeling the warmth and kindness of the inside.

If that sounds sad to you, its not, its pure joy.