past life

I always forget about the magical combination of L-Theanine and a magnesium sleep spray before bed. It’s my day off, and I’m up and ready to go at 6:30 in the morning. Ready to go where exactly? Nowhere. This morning’s plans are: curl hair, and wait for couch cleaner to arrive.

I blame TikTok edits for my new obsession with Ariana’s past life. It’s when they put “maybe i’m the stranger after all” in front of the photos of her different albums and different eras. It’s been two years since she released eternal sunshine - and you know when there’s an album that just…defines an era for you? That’s how I feel with that album.

Two years ago, to this day, I was in those final weeks of accepting that the Roman chapter of my late twenties/early thirties was coming to an end. Not that I would never return to Rome - but I knew that whatever transpired during that time of my life, could or would probably never be replicated. If I stayed, things would be different, yet things would stay the same. My community there was small - it was mostly limited to the men at the bar who, now, have all left said bar. Making friends as a foreigner is also strange, because it almost feels like the only thing you have in common with the other is that you both left home. So that, inevitably will bond you, but that bond will only take you so far.

It always seems like May is the month of the move. Right before my June birthday, right before the summer. It’s like the universe recalibrates, and the universe says - “She’s changing, her external world needs to reflect that, too.” And here I am - always trying to perfect the recipe of equal parts faith, and equal parts momentum.

“You know what I love thinking about? Different places where I felt like a really good version of myself.” Me and my friend are sitting on my couch. Our Chai Tea Sundays have become a new ritual.

“And you know how lucky we are - to even have that thought? So many people go through life just…doing the exact same thing. Completely unaware.”

I don’t know if I really, really loved the version of myself that existed in this specific area of the city. I know I’ve grown, I know I’ve been stretched, I know I’ve been tested, and I know that I can survive living in the throws of downtown, around the corner from a haunting ex. But I don’t feel like I can exhale here. I don’t feel emotionally bound or tied to it in some way. It’s grey. It’s a lot of grey, and for me, it has always felt like a holding space.

But maybe that’s what I needed. 18 months of a landing pad. Somewhere to reconnect with my own community, somewhere to reconnect with myself. And most importantly - somewhere to heal.

In my Final Rome Days, I had a tarot reading where the reader told me that I “needed to heal from someone in my past before moving on to the next chapter.” I told her I had no idea who she was talking about, since me and Triangle Eyes PN were most likely never going to speak again. But it is funny how things unfold. And it is funny how life unfolds.

It’s now 7:33. The rest of the day will look like this: a second cup of coffee. Laundry - I need to shrink two pairs of denim. Shower. Curl my hair. Wait for the couch cleaner. Put on a cute outfit. Put on makeup. Accompany my friend to the grocery store.

And then, I’ll just float. I’d like to believe that I know for sure what I’m doing this afternoon, but I’ll let the universe take that one.

But I will be playing eternal sunshine on repeat.

Emily