VENI VIDI VICI

I came. I saw. I looked around. There wasn’t much to entertain or distract me on this city block. So I kept walking.

I came. I saw. I ate at that little Italian place on East 5th. It was pretty good. I might return. Maybe not. Maybe I’ll bring someone. Maybe I’m not ready.

I came. I saw. I got my aura photographed in Chinatown. The woman said she’d never seen anything like it. She asked if I was OK; then she refused to charge me.

I came. I saw. I became motionless. My ex, who left me for the “cute matcha-cart guy,” was exiting her train and serpentining toward me in the crowd. I ran in the opposite direction, through all the crazy people, up the subway stairs. Later, after I had gotten away, I caught another train.

I came. I saw. I awaited the weekend.

I came. I saw. I ignored several texts from a friend, including one that said, “Are you alive?”

I came. I saw. I opened my tote bag and took out a little blanket. I spread it on the grass. I retrieved some pepper cheese and a bottle of lime-flavored Topo-Chico. Next, a book. It was a nice day. I had myself a little picnic right there in the park. Why does self-care feel so lonely?

I came. I saw. I sized up the “designer watches, cheapest in town, cheapest around!” hanging from the inside of the gentleman’s trenchcoat at the High Line entrance. I chose a gold number. I negotiated a new price. What the hell, I bought one. It’s almost like they time the watches to stop working exactly five minutes after you buy them. Also: What is time?

I came. I saw. I walked over to the would-be sucker sitting at Starbucks. He looked up from his phone. I said, “Do you want to buy a designer watch cheap?” Somewhere in the background, a Starbucks employee shouted, “Sir! There’s no soliciting here.” Which I found incredibly funny.

I came. I saw. I swear that I spotted my ex again, or someone wearing a pink scarf like hers, in another subway crowd. So, I decided to skip the train and just run/walk back to my apartment.

I came. I saw. I showed up at work on Monday. My boss said, “Look who it is.”

I came. I saw. I hid in my cubicle and hoped that my co-worker would not come over to me again, uninvited, and share every nuance of his weekend.

I came. I saw. I stood at the water station and filled my water bottle three times while listening to my co-worker share every nuance of his weekend.

I came. I saw. I finally felt OK on my walk home from work. Free. I took in the dusky sky as I skirted the park’s flirty edge. I stopped in my tracks. Up ahead: my ex, again, walking toward me. She saw me, too. I made a break for it into the park. She gave chase, eventually gained the angle on me, and cornered me on a little sidewalk elbow by a meadow. But, as it turns out, she wasn’t chasing me — she ran right past me, in fact, straight into the arms of her approaching cute matcha-cart guy, who apparently worked this park. I watched them make out. Finally, she turned to me and, with the guy panting over her shoulder, said, “How are you doing, by the way?”

I came. I saw. I refused to leave my apartment or even watch Netflix. Then, in the damp evening light, who knows the date, someone knocked on my door. 

I came. I saw. I answered the door — though I kept the chain lock attached. Through the opening, I could see it was my friend, the one who had wanted to know if I was still alive. When he said, “Put some clothes on and come outside,” I did so with mild resistance.

I came. I saw. I read the lyrics on the screen as I sang them into a microphone over the music. The semi-dark dive bar held about 15 tipsy people. Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep” certainly required range that I was, for some reason, not anticipating. But when I finished, almost everyone clapped. My friend assured me that I sounded “fine.” We got drunk.

I came. I saw. I conquered three slices of pizza while sitting on a curb at 3 a.m. I decided right then: I would definitely return.

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