Since I was a little girl living in a rural Georgia town 130 miles south of Atlanta, I've had a deep desire to be a so-called "Atlantian." The big city fascinated me with its massive buildings and twinkling lights. Every time my mother and I drove through the city to reach my grandmother's home in the Atlanta suburbs, I dreamed and wished and prayed that one day the universe would shine in my favor to allow me to live in my favorite city. It was with joyful tears in my eyes that I opened my acceptance letter to Oglethorpe University in January 2015. I would finally have one of my heart's dearest wishes.

In August 2015, I moved into my slightly-too-small dorm room in Dempsey Hall at OU (but that's a whole different story). Over the next few months, I fell in love with my roommates, my school, my theatre, and of course, my city. It was a unique experience to learn the intricacies of a city I'd been to countless times but that I'd never really known.

I learned that it's impossible to make it down Lenox Road at 6 p.m. I learned that "pizza date night" always meant Fellini's. I learned that the best photo lighting in the city is at the top of Ponce Market. I learned that if you want the best home cooking, EATS is the place to be. Atlanta has taught me these things and immeasurable life lessons.

I've been able to experience soul-nurturing art. I claim a city that birthed Gambino, Killer Mike, Serenbe Playhouse, and OutKast. I know the same city that THE Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. knew. This is the city of CNN, Coca Cola, TBS, and Delta Airlines. I will never claim another home like this.

There are few feelings quite like turning the curve on I-85 at Hapeville to see that perfect view of the distant skyline. I'll never forget the feeling of my feet on the floors of Hartsfield-Jackson Airport after de-boarding a plane from London after a month touring Europe. Atlanta is the taste of sweet tea and Hop's Chicken. It is stuffy summer air that we complain relentlessly about. It is the tips of buildings disappearing in winter fog. It is aching stilettoed feet on MARTA after an unforgettable night at the Fox. It is, without cliche, a little girl's dream come true.

Atlanta will always be my home. My heart belongs to the Sprawling City.