Last Tuesday Club, Uncategorized, Writing

And just as suddenly, she disappeared. The videos, the blog updates, everything just stopped. It was as if she had ceased to exist, and for all intents and purposes she had – I could no longer follow her actions or commentate on her life from a distance. It sounds wrong, to say it like that, but it’s how it felt – she’d cut me out, cut us all out – all of those who’d followed her halfway across the world as she’d skipped town and fled, running from demons only she could see.

She made disappearing beautiful, but also frustrating.

I longed to see her again, a photo, a video, a hastily recorded song – half finished and with ugly, unpolished chords, anything, just to prove to myself that she was okay.

And I realised, not for the first time, that I didn’t really know her. I couldn’t contact her family, her friends, I couldn’t ask anyone if she was okay. All I had was the impotent knowledge that she was somewhere in New York, living and breathing in a city that chews people up and spits them out, and she was there without anybody, living with a kind of freedom which is both dangerous and inspiring.

And I missed her. Oh god, how I missed her.

But I was angry at her too. How could she just leave? Leave me, to trudge through my mundane life, only imagining her adventures? How could she be so cruel? And would she return, her makeup perfect, her voice pitched just so, a smile on her face a little too bright, explaining the wonders she’d seen and the people she’d met?

Or would she stay vanished this time for good, just another lost soul in the city that never sleeps?

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