It’s funny how sometimes I felt so surrounded and at the same time, I felt so alone. That’s one of the things that I loved most about growing up in New York City. No matter how much I alienated myself from friends and family, I always had the city to confide in.
With the consistency of strange faces on Christopher Street in the West Village, I could easily distract myself from the faces that I personally knew back home in the Bronx; therefore I was really never alone. The tattooed freaks with facial piercings excited me; but they weren't freaks to me, they were everything I wanted to be. They were free. The chaos in lower Manhattan gave me reason to live. I felt alive between Canal and Bleeker Street.
New York City was my first friend, my first high and sometimes it was God to me.
In the end, friends come and go, drugs wear off and religion is optional, but New York City, I can never escape that.
Excerpt From Memoir in progress-