It’s snowing outside. Actually, it’s not even snowing. It’s some type of glorious freezing rain sleet combination that leaves the streets slippery, the air cold, and the sky a dismal shade of gray.
Needless to say, it’s a stark comparison to what I left behind in Los Angeles – wearing flip flops, blue skies, sunny days and a dual feeling of calm and happy that I hadn’t felt in ages.
When I moved back to New York from Charleston, I thought I would visit monthly; after all, my entire world was there. I quickly realized that as the saying goes, you can’t go home. Subtle things had changed, major things had changed. And every time I visited, I felt homesick, like a piece of me still felt that I made the wrong decision.
New York feels like it will never fit, which is funny, considering I have spent more of my life here than anywhere else. I constantly feel stressed and on edge here, which I didn’t feel in California.
Of course, one could argue that I was on vacation – I get that. But just the same, I felt a semblance of peace within myself that I haven’t felt in ages. I felt like myself – the version of myself that isn’t always bitter and stressed. The version of me that can stop to breathe, the one that wants to be out and about experiencing life … not just watching it pass by.
I miss the sunshine and the warm(er) weather – that goes without saying. But I miss the feeling that I had there – the feeling that I had found my perfect fit and found my “happy.”
“Do you believe you’re missing out?
That everything good is happening somewhere else”
– “Jesus Christ”