As New Yorkers and Millennials, we unwillingly fall into the samsara of full-time work days and stable income, only alleviating the tire of each day by downing mugs of coffee. It's easy to get caught up in the orderly fashion of life and most importantly, stability. We are workaholics and we are extremely proud of that fact, and why shouldn't we be? But sometimes things get out of control when we let chaos and free will take over, and naturally, we panic.

A week ago I had the most fabulous internship and had just finished up another year of college a month prior to that. As a full-time college student topped with 20-hour weekly work, I was incredibly busy and restless, but I felt more empowered than ever. I was occupied, I started to use my Calendar app, and I even made lists. First thing every morning, I checked my email.

That entire semester I tried to catch up with myself without a possible breather. I went from events, to finals, to capstone projects, Champions League finals, to tequila nights. I did well in school, completed my internship and waited for the days of complete relaxation and carelessness.

After two of those, I got tired of myself. And so the third day of my self-imposed break, I went to three sample sales. I even went to the farmers market, which I did not know that people go to before 5 p.m.

"I wish it was the school year again," a college friend of mine said. "It's just so much easier that way." Returning to habit and ritual would be cathartic, but also impossible. Ask a college student that question during finals week, and I promise you the answer will not be the same. Truth is, it's easy to get caught up in habit.

Summer strips us of habit; of waking up to alarm clocks, study sessions and whatever else. Those lucky enough to find an internship seamlessly slide into the same routine but in a different setting. I, on the other hand, was lured by the pulsating thrill to alter destiny on a whim. If I had deep desire to find another internship or job, I suppose I would have found time to search.

But I wanted to strip myself out of habit even though I had absolutely loved what I did. It's that kind of contrast that woke me up every morning: the feeling of tire and the lust for journalism. It was harmonious for what I had always aspired to do.

But it all happened; it's over; it's like a good bottle of wine. The winemaker spent so much time finding the perfect combination of grapes, the wood for the barrels, and the vintage. But once you have opened it, it's already changing. You might enjoy it for two days at most, but you'll never be able to taste the exact same sensations as you did upon opening the bottle. Most of the time, if you were lucky, it was an enjoyable bottle and a pleasant time. But all you can do now is be glad that it happened.

I'm glad I had the most wonderful time at the startup. I finally synced in with myself, my future, and my aspirations.

It's a bit strange to have no cares or schedule, to say the least. I had become dependent on my daily dose of my dream. My sense of direction was as clear as ever.

We stigmatize, however, as a society that doing nothing equates to laziness and frivolity. Maybe we need to do nothing for a moment to realize everything?

I need that fast-paced scrappy metropolitan life of a startup. I know that now. And so I am still hungover on that bottle of a perfect mix of bitter unfolding into sweet wine.

I lasted only a few days in this complete state of freedom from reality and responsibility. After all, it is dolce far niente (sweet to do nothing,) but as wine ages and goes through its own transformations, so do I.