Who'll Follow Me Into the Dark

Manhattan is frighteningly busy. Everyone dashes here and there and, most noticeably, with their faces to the ground. Don't look up, you may see someone you know, or worse, something that stops you from getting to your precious point B.

The most refreshing part of my day is something simple...friendly conversation between strangers. I get on the train and begin my slow crawl there or back, but I take a second to pull my eyes away from what I'm reading or just pull the headphones off for a second. I look around and everyone's doing the same thing. Almost every single person in my car is straining to keep their eyes, hands and feet to themselves. I can almost hear the gasp of air in the minds of the people boarding the train. They take a deep breath on the inside and solidly block out all thought that might possibly travel unspoken to the person beside then, if they happen to be a mind reader of some sort. Forbid me for feeling someone here might be interesting enough to share my small, insignificant train ride. I will more than definitely never see this person again, but I still don't want to talk to them. But doesn't anyone want to feel interesting? Interesting enough for someone to talk to?

It amazes me. Of all the cities in the world, New York City is among the most densely populated--but of course that doesn't mean we have to all talk to each other. Far from it. Striking up a conversation with someone here is like asking for a shaker of salt in a 4 star restaurant. You just don't do it.

So, it shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone reading this (if anyone is reading this) that I feel so very alone here. It is not meant to offend my family or friends who have constantly supported me through everything in the south and now the north, but for the most part they are all hundreds of miles away. Any friends I make here are hard to keep, merely due to the nature of this place. People move away, train rides are tedious after work hours and bars are crowded and expensive. Unless I hang out with a friend after work, I predictably go home and spend my few hours of freedom performing some task of necessity, or not, but it all comes down to the same thing--Where did my day go and where is everyone?

It's always been about animals for me. They are always there. They always need me. They never say, "No, not tonight," "Maybe another time" "I don't want to" or "Can't you find someone else to go with you?". My dog...she's always there, waiting for me by the door and ready to shower me with love simply because I came home.

It makes me wonder why I need anything other than that. Perhaps it's the idea that with so many people around me, someone has to have similar interests as mine. But, Jesus, everyone here is so absorbed in their immediate purpose, gadgets, appointments and fashion to just give a damn about the lives around them. Even being married, this seems to be the loneliest place on earth.

Having relationships is just too much trouble.

Eclipse is an animal, but he certainly doesn't stand around and wait for me to be with him. Quite the opposite. Due to the circumstances surrounding my work, I usually only leave the office around 6pm, so getting home in time to make an hour drive out to see my horse for an hour or less and turn around and take another hour getting home--it just isn't normally in the cards. I see him on the weekends, and that definitely has ill effects.

He is so curious, social and goofy. That is, until I show up. Then he feigns disinterest and places his nose right back in his hay bin. If anyone else shows up to the barn he trots up to them happily sniffing pockets for hidden treats. Imagine how I feel when I see this. I feel like I've been betrayed by the one reason I look to escape that behavior in humanity, but there he is, reflecting everything I brought with me.

I completely understand that he's doing it because he hates that I spend so little time with him. Believe me, it's the last thing I want in the world. I sought out an Arabian horse because of their absolute, undying dedication to their person. He's smart. He sees me coming and knows how everything else will follow. I'll walk to him and give him a pat and tie him up, spend an hour grooming and brushing, saddle him and ride him for a few hours or less. Then we take off the saddle, I give him a pat and let him go eat some hay. It's a routine he's used to and that really breaks my heart.

I want him to be happy I'm with him. I know he is upset to see the other horses being played with by their owners throughout the week and I think maybe he takes out his jealousy on me when I finally show up.

This is why I am moving him to a new barn in a few weeks. I need him closer. I just can't stand seeing him sad. Since he will be closer, I will be able to play with him after work whenever I chose, and I believe that will help me feel less alone through the week myself.

I need our bond. I need to feel he needs me as much as I need him. I need him to know he's not alone, but I think subconsciously I need to be reassured that I'm not either. No one can tell me that enough for me to believe it. I have to see it. Somehow, in the massive population of the Big Apple, it's just not getting through to me.

Perhaps they are all looking for the same thing as Eclipse and me. It's a question we can't answer ourselves. In the end all we really want to know is: Who will follow us into the dark?