JANUARY 11, 1991. NEW YORK CITY.
Coming back from Davis was a shock. It's so much easier there. New York is such a struggle. Is it because there's just too many people all crammed together, all pushing and shoving to get what they want, to get where they're going? It's like everybody agreed to give up trying to be nice, patient, courteous. "Fuck it. What's in it for me?"
Everyone's in survival mode. Get through the day. That's all that matters.
My head is pounding. Feels like it's going to explode.
Why do I live here?