YANG BENAR

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I Am Like the City

Back Bay, Boston

I tend to think that cities are not that much different from people. Which is probably why I feel hopelessly homeless at heart most of the time. You are in search of something — possibly a sense of relief, a place you feel you belong. It is not that nothing is good enough. It is just like people. You give it a try, and after a while their flaws overshadow their qualities and you decide you've had enough. 

Cities have their own personalities, after all, an inalterable grittiness and varying evolvement processes that leave you feeling lost and lonesome. It lives and breathes and sleeps even when you can't. It does not wait for you. It is like the most severe, uncompromising partner you could have.

Most people who live in the cities they grew up in, or for most of their life, love their city. It is part of who they are, they say. In a way, I envy that sort of loyalty. It is like how you love a family member you can't simply walk away from forever. You can't bring yourself to leave them behind no matter how many times, and how badly they've let you down. Or a first love. No matter how fault-ridden they are, or were, they remind you of what love is when you have trouble remembering years down a lonesome, loveless road.

I heard a man speaking about his first love once. He said, "She finished with me when I was 20 years old. I am fifty-eight now. I still think about her."

We remember what is real and pain is as real as it gets. It’s a large part of our memories, which is why we always look back on it. Why would we be too affected by what is or was false? The first few times are a learning experience. Some of us are figuring out quality and authenticity from inferiority and inauthenticity and it affects the choices we make as we grow up. When you know better you stop getting upset by whatever or whoever is fake. Because you can spot deception easily, and reject it.

Our emotions can’t be separated from what we remember most, especially if what we remember most is loss and suffering. It reminds us of how fragile we really are. Or also, I feel, it reminds us of how everything seemed more clear-cut and simple when we were kids because we weren't really searching for the meaning of life. Or the meaning behind everything. It is both a comfort and a grievance when looking that far back.

I finish with people all of the time. Not because they were not good enough for me. But because their flaws and faults started to overshadow their qualities and I decided I'd had enough. This, in turn, is my biggest fault. My only comfort is that I had not been dismissive at the start.

I am like the city.

I am not inalterable, but I am severe and resolute.