Page 48 of Status Undefined
“I know people who were inspired by your coming out and did the same.”
“Your photos and clips inspired me to travel and share my experiences with the whole world.”
They went on and on until I had to say something to shut them up.
“If I go back to New York, I won’t be posting on Instagram anymore.”
There was silence.
“I’ll be so happy for you. We’ll find someone to replace you on Instagram – though we’ll miss you,” said a smiling Latin girl with a red pouch. “But you won’t find a replacement for Amit.”
Everyone nodded.
January 29
So what if I continue to run away? Maybe if I’ll be distracted long enough I’ll feel better someday. Anyway, I like traveling around the world, seeing a different sunset every day, meeting new people and new cultures. I love what I do, and I enjoy every day. Well, I did until Amit came into the picture. Who says that if I face my fears I’ll really feel better? Even if everyone over there accepts me, will I feel better stuck in New York instead of traveling? Facing your fears sounds good in theory, but my happiness doesn’t follow formulas. When I’m traveling, I’m not scared. I left that fear behind and I didn’t give up a thing. I didn’t have a problem leaving my family and friends; I didn’t have a problem with everyone I knew disappearing from my life. Except Amit. I spent hours arguing with myself like this. The part of me that had been happy couldn’t comprehend how one person could bring everything to a standstill.
I finally gave in and started the readThe Alchemist, the book Amit had given me. It was because I missed him that I started reading it. I thought perhaps it would bring me a trace of Amit. Maybe not the best idea, but the only one I had. Right from the beginning, I understood why Amit gave me that particular book; it’s about a nomadic journey. But, a few hours later, I finished reading and threw the book against the wall.
“Come on! What is this crap!” I yelled at the walls.
Amit’s voice appeared in my head: “I told you the end would surprise you.”
“I’m only surprised by how much it sucked!” I replied to him, or myself.
How could such an amazing story have such a terrible ending? That whole journey only to find that the treasure is at the starting point. What an appalling waste of time.
Another flashback hit me, of Amit’s flushed face with the geckoin his hand, his glasses askew and my irrational certainty that I’d stumbled on a treasure. On the other hand – Amit and I also had a terrible ending. If there was a book about us, readers would probably toss it out of the window, and I’d join them if I could.
No. I won’t. I won’t let my story end terribly. There are good endings, bad endings – but terrible? No! A writer must be brave and make choices. Or just settle for a terrible ending to get away with not choosing. It’s so unfair!
It took me a while but then I got it, what Amit, the author, or the universe itself was trying to tell me. If I didn’t have the experience of being a nomad – this amazing journey – I would never have connected with Amit. It’s true. In Brooklyn I might not even have glanced at him if I’d passed him in the street. I had to make my journey in order to notice him. It wasn’t random. It was meant to be. Everything I’d experienced was a prelude to meeting Amit at the right moment in time. Amit wasn’t just a point in time, he wasn’t a footnote or an accident that I should have avoided or moved beyond. He was the objective – the destination I’d been traveling towards. The nomadic life was the means, not the end.
My story has to end differently. It won’t have a terrible ending. It will end with a choice.
I picked up my phone and was surprised to see a lot of messages wishing me happy birthday. I hadn’t been paying attention to the dates recently. Turns out I was 25 that day. I saw the names on the screen and my heart twinged. What with Amit leaving and the Vipassana workshop, I hadn’t been in touch with friends for the past few weeks. I hadn’t replied to their messages. It’s not that I didn’t see them, but I hadn’t had the energy or interest to reply. Everything had seemed meaningless. One of the messages was from Naama. I opened it immediately.
Dear Daniel,
You’ve seen so much in your life, traveled the world and madeconnections with so many people, but there are some things you have to learn on your own – not through others. Sometimes you have to sweat blood to understand. I won’t be generic and wish you wealth and happiness, but I will wish you as little agony as possible on your road to the real happiness you seek. I wish you the strength to choose and take risks with your whole heart. Live life without regret. That’s what I would wish myself at your age. Keep inspiring others and sharing your contagious enthusiasm for life wherever you go. We loved meeting you, even if our time together was short. We’ll keep following you Happy birthday.
Naama was right. It was time to sweat blood.
February 1
I booked a flight to New York for that same evening.
Yes, it was a bit impulsive, short notice, but I couldn’t breathe anymore and the minute I confirmed the reservation something in me changed. The dread wasn’t gone, but there were also glimmers of hope and anticipation – light at the end of the tunnel after too much time spent living, or surviving, inside it.
I posted a story for my followers, announcing that I was moving to New York. I got countless supportive messages, but I reminded myself that it made sense; most people in the world dream of visiting New York. It’s not home for them. It’s not the place they escaped from, but the place they dream of visiting on vacation. Maybe some think it’s just another destination for me. The most supportive and meaningful message was from Keren:
“Oh my god!!! I’m crying with excitement! You have to send me a selfie of the two of you together so I can just lay down and die!”
I replied with a heart. She was certain I was going to Amit and somehow she knew I would find him; he would forgive me and take a selfie with me. I was certain of nothing. I had no plan of action, I just knew I wanted to be near to him, in the same city. Somehow all my other problems were overshadowed by my desire to see him. What had once concerned me – how to deal with my friends and family after coming out, whether I would manage to go nomad again, the fear of sinking into the life I had hated so much, the fear of reverting to who I was then or, more pointedly, to hide who I was. All these no longer bothered me, or at least very little. I was focused on something else. I had a feeling that if I could find Amit I could handle everything else. We could help each other handle everything else.
I was locked on my goal, and I didn’t care if the Thais slapped me with a huge fine for overstaying my visa. I just wanted to getout of there. I took a photo of the airplane steps before I climbed them and posted what was probably my last post.
PART 3:
