Sometimes I read things about living in New York and nod and smile at how similar people's experiences here are. And then I remember that I still live here, and I already treat my memories of this place as memories, as things that happened and now I've moved on. I guess its because my time here has segued through so many mini adventures. Living in New Jersey in the house of gay seems, feels and is YEARS ago now. I was younger, so much more naive, so confused and lonely. And even at the beginning of this year I went through all those same emotions when I came back to NY after Chrissie in Aus... To me living in New York means reminding myself that I live in New York. Constantly reminding myself that this is that big city that everyone dreams about living in.
Usually my response is, so what?
Closely followed by what the hell am I still doing here?
http://thoughtcatalog.com/2010/how-to-live-in-new-york-city/
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