Dear New York City,
Lately, I’ve been thinking about moving out. I’ve had this urge to just leave here and go somewhere different. Something inside me is telling me to have travel away from the comfort of your reach. I’ve been thinking about heading West—California, probably—where warmer weather and a change of pace beckon. Some days I just want to pack up all my things, head out there, and entertain that wanderlust that I’ve been holding onto for so long.
I’ve grown bored—bored by the same routine, bored by the same old places and the same old sights. They say that there’s always something to do here in the city, but what happens when everything has already been done? Even having moved here only 15 years ago, I feel like I’ve grown soft to the glamour and magnificence of the city. The skyscrapers that once used to dazzle me now just blur into the same old background. The bustling subway cars have lost their character and only act as a terminal from point A to B. Even within the 8.4 million people that inhabit this tiny microcosm, I still feel like another monotonous blip in the sea of natives, tourists, and immigrants that comprise your population.
I need to be somewhere new, away from the maddening hustle and urban sprawl that color your streets. I need space (preferably bigger than 800 square feet) and some quiet from your never-ending noise.
But I’ll miss you. I’ll miss waking up to your panoramic views and your captivating sidewalks; I’ll miss the ever-changing strangers and passersby I encounter on my daily commutes; I’ll miss the comforting orchestra of howling sirens and sporadic honks in the middle of the night; I’ll miss being able to go wherever I want, knowing that there’s a train available to get me there; I’ll miss seeing the bright lights that illuminate the city that never sleeps.
But most of all, I’ll miss all the things that I’ve grown up with: The people, places, and memories that are forever ingrained in me from my time here. I’ll miss the 3 am artichoke pizza run after a long night. I’ll miss exploring the streets of Chelsea with my friends after classes. I’ll miss walking alone through Central Park and taking in a little slice of nature. There are so many visceral moments that I’ve experienced here in the city: Playing wiffleball in the park with my dad and sister; enjoying the sprinkle of the fire hydrant in front of my middle school during the summer; feeling the quiet ambience of the nights after my theater rehearsals; and looking up into the sky and seeing myself surrounded by the hundreds of towering buildings, wondering how on Earth I got the privilege to live in such a city like this. You will always be home to me, no matter what anyone else says. I will always consider you the place where I created myself and where I understood what it truly meant to be a New Yorker. The determination, grit, stubbornness, and quick pace—all of it I’ve gained from walking through your streets and neighborhoods. I’ve seen myself rise, fall, laugh, cry, grow, and mature into the person that I see in the mirror today, and that comes from you.
I know that someday we will meet again because everyone is always drawn back to their home. Whether it be five months from now or five years, I know that I will come back to the place where it all began, and I will find you waiting for me with open arms, wondering why on earth I ever left here. Because no matter how many times they criticize our attitudes, pick apart our lifestyles and dissect our culture, New York City will always remain the greatest city in the world and the city that I am proud to call my own.
Till we meet again,
Jeffrey
