I've been in New York three years. One year less than college. I'm not sure what to make of it. I'm so different... better. Yet, my heart is the same and I am still searching. Looking back, I realize that I don't give myself enough credit. And it's easy for me to forget that I'm living the life I dreamed. I'm living in New York and working as a designer at a magazine. For the most part, I'm doing everything I said I would do even though I'm still not sure of what's to come. (I am profoundly uncertain.) To me that's kind of amazing.
This is from my journal:
May 30, 2004
They say the first night is the hardest. I hope this is true. Outside my windows I can hear cars and buses driving by, alarms going off, loud music and people talking. This is not good for a light sleeper. I realize, I am not use to city living. I lie awake, thinking, "What am I doing here? Did I make the right choice?" I know tomorrow will be better, I'm in New York, after all. Then I fall asleep.