I lived in NYC from June 2019 to July 2023. I’d say I had a good run, and will spare you all the details, but it just became untenable and I needed to relocate.

I find myself looking at pictures on my camera roll of everything I did throughout the city, and feel an ache in my chest. I dream about taking the J over the bridge at sunset, about wandering the LES at night, drunk ubers back to Brooklyn, random things I saw that made me laugh… I could go on.

I feel like I should move on, but I can’t. There’s no place like NYC, and even though it was like the city had finally chewed me up enough that I was spit out, I want to return. It’s like a drug, I want it but I know it might not be good for me. I wonder when I will make peace with my experience there and let it reside in my heart with love, instead of feeling this incredible longing in my chest— the same longing that prompted my move there in the first place. I loved the city even on my worst days. Something about the Manhattan skyline makes my heart sing. I loved the struggle but eventually it all became too much.

Maybe someone who’s a proper NYer knows why I feel like this. Or maybe I’m just a pathetic transplant🤡