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#viennastorys#she'slonely#gettingthirty

Between people

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Between people | story.one

It’s been a very long two years. Between the pandemic, the new city, the new job and the blue-green hair, I’ll be thirty somewhere in between. Life is on the move. Time is passing. I am being.

I am here. I exist. I am happy. Dreaming.

Waking up in one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, having a cup of coffee in a nearby hipster cafe with my even more hipster laptop full of stickers. I order an overpriced vegan dish. Post it on my Instagram page. Scrolling through TikTok. Walking to my train with my Bluetooth earbuds. Listening to Harry Styles. (My sister convinced me to give him a try – me gen Z-ing full-time like a pro.) A book peeking out of my pocket – to look intellectual and old-fashioned. And a pair of Nikes on my feet, just to make sure I’m still a true Millenial.

I’m there. I’m alive. I’m anxious. Dating.

I walk down Neubaugasse, smiling and scared, checking my phone to see if you’ll cancel at the last minute. You text, you’ll be late. I’m relieved. I’m always the one who’s late. A sunny April day. Outside a vino bar, a handsome, nerdy hipster waits for a shy, green-haired wannabe writer. You gave me a hug. I smiled. My book dropped, breaking the awkward silence.

I’m out. I’m talking. I’m excited. Kissing.

I’m riding the tram home with an open book in my hand, looking out the window. (Looks like a real 90s MTV music video.) I drive through the night, thinking of you, breathing in Vienna. Will I ever actually read the book? I open the door. Doing my skin care. (That’s what people do these days.) Going to bed. I leave the book on my nightstand.

I sleep. I breathe. I am lonely. Crying.

Waking up in one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, drinking my first coffee by the window of my Altbau apartment, thinking about my escape vacation to Bologna. Escaping the loop. Escaping the time. The book stops on page 29. Will I ever get past the introductory chapter? Will the plot ever begin? Am I stuck at 29?

I’m leaving. I’m traveling. I write. Loving.

It’s been a very long two years. Between the pandemic, the new city, the new job, and the blue-green hair, I turn thirty somewhere in between. Life is on the move. Time is passing. I am being.

I am me. I sing. I exist. Thinking.

Between people. Between lonely nights. Between sweet dates. Between books. Between cities. Between train stations. Between green and blue. Between thirty.

© eatmorearts 2022-05-02

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