It’s my first time living in New York City. I’ve always seen it in the movies, watched its glistening greatness from a distance.
In the movies, everyone starts out small—they have a big dream and maybe two pairs of shoes to their name. They wander into the vast city, a nobody. But then 60 minutes into the film, they’ve stumbled into the right person at the right time. They’ve fallen in love and then their closet is totally revamped. They’ve made it. Then the happy indie song plays as the credits roll and we’re sure that one day we will move to the city and our lives will be fairytales too.
We all fall for these stories, head over heels.
We laugh, we cry. We talk to our TV screens and give pep talks when the actor who’s now our new best friend is feeling down.
We’re suckers for the stories on the silver screen. So why aren’t we suckers for our own stories?
Maybe because our stories unfold in a much slower pace. Life doesn’t adjust its pace to meet our convenience. Sometimes you go days, weeks, or months without doing something new. You feel like you’re tiptoeing across the calendar. But here is what I am learning—we are made for the valley. We are built for the slower, uneventful, inbetween days. Those are the ones that mold us, craft us, shake us, bend us into becoming the version of ourselves that the universe has on tab.
We’re here to savor the highs and thrills and bright orange sunsets. But we’re also here so that the lows and standstills have someone who’s willing to bite back.
Here I am in New York, a city that wears its concrete like a gown and handles its crowd by wearing its heart on its sleeve.
It’s a city where the people are always wide-awake, always going— never fully brave, but always completely sure.
I am coming to the sobering realization that a person doesn’t follow a story— a story follows a person. We can’t copy and paste someone else’s moments.
Wherever we are, we’re writing our story.
Right now, I am under skyscrapers that are high-fiving the sky and playing with the stars. Everyone is strong and bustling and they are all holding their dreams in the air like white flags, and I am here, writing a very good part of my story.