My New York love story doesn't involve meeting my prince charming on a subway or swiping right on a cute hipster from Brooklyn, in fact, it doesn't even involve another human being.

I've been in love with the magical island of Manhattan for as long as I can remember. It's almost like your typical human-to-human relationship, as much as my family doesn't understand why I am in love with the city that never sleeps, I continue to run right back to it.

While I have countless memories of bustling city sidewalks and quirky finds in the East Village, my most vivid memory is standing on top of the Empire State building when I was twelve. Invigorating doesn't even begin to describe the feeling while looking down at the millions of people and yellow taxi cabs that looked like ants and bumble bees from my point of view. I felt on top of the world and never wanted to come down.

Whenever I step onto the sidewalk of 7th Avenue from Penn Station, I still feel as I did when I was twelve. New York keeps me young at heart and always bring me back to myself. Whenever I need to clear my mind from my Long Island trouble, I simply go to a museum or walk around Central Park with a cup of coffee. In fact, I didn't even know that I liked museums until Manhattan introduced me to them. In my eyes, love is when you feel a true sense of power and unstoppable feeling, whether it be with a person or a city.

Until the day that I meet my prince charming at the subway station, Manhattan is the holder of my heart.

"I fell in love, his name is New York."