Recently, I had the opportunity to move back to New York, and against all logic, I opted to stay. I’ve been mulling over this decision for over two months now, and the difficulty of turning down a city like New York is still palpable. The giddiness that coursed within me upon hearing of the opportunity. The city pulsates with a vibrancy unparalleled. The hopes and dreams, the grit, the tears that go into that city. The ambition and consumption. Oh the consumption. The culture and the microcosm of a world (and what a world!) within an x block radius of one’s apartment, regardless of which borough or neighborhood you live in.
Last week, I had the peace of making a gut decision. Against all rational thought – I was never a rational thinker to begin with. Trying not to be led by the shoulds and the oughts, but rather, where my heart lay. Unthinkably, it whispered not now. It’s not time. Not right now. And yet, I’m left with a decision hangover of massive proportions, not entirely sure I made the right decision. I’m trying really hard not to regret this. I may never go back.
What have I done?
I love New York with my heart and soul. It’s been so good to me. One and a half years after the fact, I still hold on to what could have been had I stayed. The excitement, the friendships, the endless distractions.
We were so good together. Those weekends spent in the park, perusing sundry items at Brooklyn Flea. Those night time strolls along Lincoln Center. Dinner dates in West Village. Restaurant after Michelin starred restaurant. Perhaps we could’ve made it work. But now, it’s time to move on.