i want to sleep in a city that never sleeps

new york, new york, new york, new york, new york is the only thing in my mind as i board the plane, terrified.

possibly because the plane will crash, possibly because my dream might be crushed. my hopes and dreams may be realized, but so may my fears, that all i’ve ever wanted will be simply a pipe dream so many others.

but no, it won’t, i won’t let it.,,,, but how can i possibly stop it.

the plane flew perfectly to see the entirety of manhattan, of which i could only see because i begged the man sitting beside me to open his window. and i cry. yet, to this day, i don’t know why. tears rushed down my cheeks as i see the statue of liberty for the first time as “welcome to new york” blares in my ears to help with the awful congestion i get on planes.

i exit the airport and it is so so loud, a kind of bustle those who have never been to a major city know nothing of. to those around me it is alien like, this kind of rapid movement around them, but somehow i feel like its normal.

i am where i am supposed to be.

it felt like my whole world had been opened up, my southern sinuses had been cleared. i want so badly to be cleared. new york might be the medication i need.

we drive through the city in the horrific traffic that here is indicative of a major wreck, but is simply common place here. yet, i don’t mind it. all of the “flaws” of a city im accustomed to are brilliant beacons of civil life here.

“ a rose by another other name would smell just as sweet, ” a random line from one of my favorite works ever “Romeo and Juliet” floats in my mind, though it doesn’t completely work in this scenario. my mind was in such an attempt to relate this experience to something that it did it incorrectly.

i love graffiti.

it’s everywhere.

i love how they’ve embraced it.

how is it on the sides of bridges?

i love graffiti.

the pullout bed in the hotel doesn’t work. i don’t mind because it’s trying.

i love the hundreds of fake Gucci purses in China town.

i love how China Town gives a taste of home for the asian americans living there.

i love the community in such a varied place.

china town was my favorite part. in my party it was their least favorite, largely because outside of shopping there isn’t much to do, but the architecture, how can they not see the architecture.

the architecture oh the architecture, how can a building a 100 years old stand beside what seems to be avengers headquarters. i have never cared for architecture, how can a city with a reputation for being so self focused and driven make me care so much about other people’s works. i mistakenly called multiple buildings the building from “jessie” in an attempt to create something i could recognize in such an unfamiliar place.

i love being uncomfortable. i love doing things i’ve never done before, it gives me a sense of control.

i want so desperately to be here, but time is running out, you can only stay so long.

i love the second day of the trip, where you have your first full day, you’re not worried about leaving yet because you just got there. new york gave me that feeling everyday.

the met, i went because i love “gossip girl” but it ended up becoming a core memory. mattise, picaso, pollock, van gough, all of these artists in one building. the claude monet sunflower painting in a corner with no one looking at it.

i want to live in a city where one of the most famous pieces of art is common place.

we went on a bus ride on the first night there to see the city, it was one of my favorite things, but yet again everything was.

the bus rider casually talks about how he’s seen taylor swift and harry styles perform at Madison Square Garden, and is excited to see Dua Lipa there.

i want to live in a city that artists know the name of. i don’t believe any of those three artists could spell mississippi.

i am disappointed by times square. the pictures make it seem so much bigger than it actually is. it feels like a betrayal, a city that means so much to me has an aspect i don’t like? it smells. i stand beside a sewer run off and smell the fumes of thousands of peoples toilets. i envision it’s what hell smells like. though, in time, i came to not mind it. maybe because it blended in, or maybe my nostril’s receptors were burned to a crisp.

honk. honk. honk. HONKKKKKKKK. i love it here.

i go to bed late one night because i watched the newest halloween, it was good, though I think Jamie should’ve had a larger part. i love living in a city where i can see a celebrity.

it’s so loud, why are there so many people roaming the streets at 4am. roaming the streets at that time where i live will get the cops called. i love what the police wear, it looks so retro yet so modern at the same time. i’ve never cared about what they’ve worn.

i love living in a city where my view of a brick building filled to the brim with paper is a sign of hard work and aspiration.

i love living in a city where everything is open 24/7 because the people are up 24/7.

i love living in a city that never sleeps.

i board the plane back, tears running down my eyes because i never got to see it rain.

i’ve yet to hear someone speak french fluently again.

i want to live in a city that never sleeps.