I was going to write a bunch of posts to send myself off. Stories about all the people I met here. All the crazy things that happened. Bikes oceans mountains buildings basements rooftops. How wild it was. How I never really meant to end up here and the whole first year I felt like I had stolen someone else’s dream. But it would take a book to write it all. Maybe one day it will be a book.
I just want to say one sentence. But every time I write it I wonder if it is really about New York City or if it is just about being in your twenties. Or maybe this is how you feel your whole life, I just don’t know it yet. But–
God I feel like a stranger here.
God I’m scared that I’ll never belong anywhere as much as I belong here.