Somewhere between Penn Station and Hicksville, he asked me, "Do you think you will ever fall in love again?" I sat transfixed, staring out into the recently familiar New York skyline as it dipped rapidly out of my view, the metro creaks and whines beckoning the repressed memories from my mind. It all seemed to be a familiar lullaby, rocking my dangling legs to sleep. Reminding me, that some infinities are just bigger than others.

I stood underneath the skyscrapers, submerged in the mercy of the thousands of footsteps and chilly bodies that seemed to only exist in motion. An overwhelming blur of images, emotions, passions, and loss all just running from one destination to the next. The streetlights changed, horns honked, tires squealed and people shouted profanities into their phones while boarding the bus. I expected this moment to terrify me. This complete submersion of my identity into the belly of one of the largest cities in the world.

But I felt my lips being pulled towards my ears, revealing my coffee stained teeth and pink nose from the wind. I felt my fingers wiggling to keep warm in the deepness of my peacoat's pockets. I felt the aroma of freshly baked goods drift from the corner of 72nd Street. I felt the slight push of a stranger's arm in his hurry to cross the street. And then slowly, I felt you.

I must explain something first, before I can answer his question. I must explain what it feels like to be depressed. It begins with a bag of ice, the heavy kind you purchase at convenient stores prior to a family vacation. I lay on my back beside the front door, covered from head to toe in thick layers of clothing, clutching this ten pound bag of ice across my chest. My fingers grip the concrete thickness of the bitter cubes, feeling nothing at first but the uncomfortable grip of carrying around this unnecessary weight. As time passes, and cars drive by, and the revolving doors of this convenient store keep opening and closing, the ice begins to melt. It drips off in thin lines, not yet seeping into my sweater, just pooling uncomfortably around my hips. People start to step over me, avoiding the growing pool of water, I don't blame them. The water has started to twist into my clothing's fibers and seep into my shoes. I start to shiver, still clutching this bag of ice, trying to remember why I had to hold it in the first place. The gas station employee sets out a wet floor sign by my shoulders. I mouth thank you, I began to fear people would slip in my draining will. By five o clock the bag is thin, and I am completely saturated in numbness. The color of passing cars begin to fade into one shade of grey and the tint of red in my hair is too paper-thin to distinguish. And the door to this convenient store opens and closes faster now, because it's getting late and people are heading home. They begin to leap over me without caution and I can't remember the name of this store anymore. By nightfall, I have lost all feeling in my ligaments. The empty bag of ice has dried and flown across the parking lot, it voided all it contents on my chest. The weight makes the effort to breathe difficult. I see a car, vaguely, its shape more of a mirror than an object. I try to muster the energy to crawl, but the weight of this water is too heavy. I am saturated, I am color blind. I am obsolete. My world just a black and white picture dripping in melted weight.

And here I am standing on the corner of one of the largest cities in the world, years away from where you are, and I feel you.

And now I must explain what it means to feel you. And that happens quickly, that happens when you walk in a room. When you laugh from your belly instead of your chest, when you say my name softly in a crowded room and for some reason that's all I can hear. Feeling you was electricity in my veins, a shooting fire when your lips touched mine. It was waking up slowly, like Sunday mornings to find your hands gripping tightly on my torso. It was watching the energy rush between your eyebrows every time you felt alive. It was seeing the miracle you were and being intoxicated in it. Feeling you, was seeing in color for the first time. The moment the ice never existed and the black and white pictures burst into a brilliant flame. Feeling you was the greatest infinity I ever existed in.

I twisted the knots out of my hair, fingering the loose strands behind my ear. Feeling very warm, being very small, becoming very happy in the knowledge that I might never fall in love again. And I hope I don't, because that means I would have fallen out of it with you.