I’ve wanted to visit New York City since I was in middle school. It was a lifelong dream, one that I knew would happen someday but when?
I’d read countless books about New York, watched several films and shows that took place there, and I just knew it was the city for me. I knew it! I was so intrigued by the dynamics of that city. I was hungry to experience it, to live it, feel it, taste it. I made a plan to move there, I applied for colleges there, it was what I would call home, I would often tell myself.
However, life had a different plan for me. After struggling through school, both financially and mentally, and working up to three jobs at a time, I made the decision to move.
Where did that come from? Well, if you want to the honest truth, and to be completely frank, I have no idea my friend.
Sure, I loved the idea of LA, I loved it in tv shows and movies and books I’d read, but I wanted to be a NYC gal, I wanted to walk in Central Park with a cup of black and bitter coffee I’d just bought off a food cart from a guy who speaks only two words in English. I wanted to shop on 5th ave wearing Manolos like Carrie Bradshaw and then pretend I didn’t need to budget my life out and shoes were the epitome of an outfit. I wanted to sit in my cute little apartment and write all day and night while the city hustled and bustled outside. I wanted the New York lifestyle.
Nope, we made the decision to move to California. Before I could even change my mind about the location, *ahem, NY* my entire family already spread the word. I was doing it, and they all thought I was just a little crazy.
I made a plan, I saved my money, I drove to Portland from Seattle, then on to San Francisco where I spent the night at a smelly Airbnb, woke up at the butt crack of dawn, got a coffee, and made my way to LA. I went straight to the beach, and I told myself and my mom, “I made it.”
Did I though? I’ve always felt like something was still missing. What could it be? I won’t go on about my time here, I will say that I struggled A LOT. I got fired, I lost jobs, I was broke, I cried, A LOT. I struggled like any other 20 year old would in a brand new state. Luckily, momma didn’t raise no…
Fast forward two years of living in LA, my boyfriend gifted me a NY trip for Christmas. The best gift you could give me, aside from a proposal. Joke
We went, and aside from the fact that we had an extremely rough weekend prior to our trip due to, well let's just say that whole thing about in-laws not getting along with their sons girlfriends/fiances/wives/etc yeah it’s a thing and it is BAD. That’s not what I’m here to talk to you about though, back to the NY trip.
We arrived in New York and I felt something in me that I never felt when I first drove to California. I felt… fear. Not in the bad sense, but more so… what’s going to happen here? Where am I? What if this place is better than I dreamed it to be? What if things here taste better? WHAT IF?
I felt so many emotions during our trip to NYC. I felt fear as I mentioned, I also felt bliss. I felt peace, contentment, sadness, a mixture of overwhelming inspiration along with, well maybe I should stop what I’m doing and go grab a bagel. (NY does indeed have the greatest bagels known to man) New York is insane. It’s that man you’ve always dreamed about that will stare at you with that smoldering look that makes you feel naked before he rips your top off then moves down to your panties… with his teeth.
I’ve never seen so many people in one place, and I live in LA. NY is crowded, busy, loud and ferocious. It’ll push you around like last seasons handbags. The noise never stops, the drinks never stop pouring and the city never sleeps.
More to come on that, later.
If you liked this, give me a clap! And tell me if you’ve been to NYC!