Five Years And Counting

It’s weird to think that I’ve been living in New York for five years (and one day) now. Most of the time it seems like it’s been so much longer, and occasionally I wonder if I’ve even been here a week. Even as a kid, I knew I wasn’t cut out for a life of MidwestΒ suburbia, and I’d talk about how I was going to move away to a big city. I guess I knew, even then.

New York is one of those cities you love to hate. I love the fact that I can get anything I need here at pretty much any time of day. If I need a break from the hustle and bustle, we have parks (and Roosevelt Island)! We have the ocean. We have a train that will take you an hour outside the city and you can go hiking. Whatever it is that you want, you can have it.

And then I hate how expensive it is, the hassle of moving, the constant smell of garbage in the summer, the tourists.

This city, I think, is meant to beat you down and build you back up. Everyone should have to live hear at some point in their lives because I feel like it teaches you a LOT about responsibility and what you’re willing to give up in order to stay here.

So much has happened in my life the last five years, and while undoubtedly some of them would’ve happened if I were living somewhere else, there are definitely a few New York-specific incidents that I wouldn’t trade for anything.Β The friends I’ve made here are family now. I’ve set down roots — if I ever have to leave, it’s going to be hard to leave them behind. I met my best friends here. I figured out who I am. I know what I want to do with the rest of my life. And those things I strictly attribute to my time here.

So thanks, New York, for constantly keeping me on my toes. For continuing to beat me down and then showing me something better. For giving me opportunities I only could’ve dreamed of. Here’s to another five years (and hopefully man more)!

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