"I fell in love with you the way you fall asleep, slowly at first, and then all at once." The incomparable John Green penned those words to describe the love between Hazel and Gus, but I have found that it describes my first love as well.

At first in the presence of my would be love, I was overwhelmed. Too loud, too hurried and too bold were not inaccurate descriptions.

There was a lack of the southern flair to which I was accustomed, and it made me uneasy.

There was no front porch, languid richness in sight. There was only bold stature and obvious statements of glory that I found to be flippant.

Then slowly, subtleties emerged, and I found myself looking at reflected familiarity. Reflections of my own idealist dreams.

No, my first love was not a man with proverbial shining armor, at the age of 20, I was falling for a city.

I did not immediately adapt to Washington D.C. There was a process of awakening if you will, the urban part of me. Rural in heritage it was not uncommon for my younger self to denounce cities. The first metro rides without by best friend were deeply unsettling, and walks after the winter's early nightfall saw me scurrying and nervous.

Then one night, walking home after a day that left me feeling particularly useless, everything changed.

Hands buried deep in my pockets, dragging my boots and lamenting my hopeless future, I looked up.

The capitol building shone in the distance, lit up despite scaffolding. I noticed that I wasn't unnerved by my surroundings, that somehow I had become accustomed to the noise and found it almost quiet. I became aware that I felt unhurried, not pressured by the motion of the metropolis.

But mostly I found that I was content, and that just being an intern in this city quenched a thirst I had not known existed, and that I belonged.

There is something remarkably transcendental about being an intern, even just an intern, when involved in something so much bigger than myself, or even my boss. Centuries and hours and countless minds creating the world they wanted to live in and hassling with questions that are the molecules of the human experience.I was just an intern but I didn't want to leave when the clock hit so I stayed to do talentless tasks in an effort to touch a history I'll never know.

I have learned many lessons by falling in love with the city: 1) It is possible to find incredible stillness in the impossibly loud. 2) I have been from the very start and will continue to be, a workaholic. 3) I love what I do. 4) Crosswalks are not a straight forward kind of deal, sometimes you need to stop at the stop and other times you can cross anyway. 5) Hard truths are beautiful realities at times. 6) "Let me know if you ever need anything printed," is not ideal when speaking to a handsome man. 7) Escalators can have odd bumps in them, like you're going up fine and there's a weird bump and you feel like you're falling but you're fine. 8) Bojangles has never been more important. 9) Don't dance on the metro. Or do. It depends. 10) Things are expensive but food and coffee are too essential to skip. And 11) Your roots are still your roots no matter what happens.

All the best parts of me were pulled by the energy of D.C. My independent and sentimental spirit, friendly nature, and determination made me a perfect match for the District. And I was in love.

All boiled down, the city is endlessly poetic to an idealist soul. And no matter what kind of work you're doing, walking home and seeing the capitol building, all lit up and scaffolded is kind of a metaphor for this country, this world and this life.

And Washington, I am coming back, no matter what, I will come home.