My love affair, subsequent depression and continued pining for New York have been documented quite well here. So I won't go into painful detail, yet again, about how much I love love love NYC.
Because I do.
Everything about that time of my life made me happy. And the memories still do.
But I am a little ... scared of NYC now.
Not, like scared but, something.
You see, I worry that if I ever visit NYC again, I will never leave. The energy would be too much and I will succumb.
I just know it.
I would end up quitting my job, moving there on a whim and becoming a life-long waitress. (not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just I'm a little too ... obsessive to be a waitress. I also really hate people)
But still, NYC makes me soo fucking happy. Even just knowing it is there, should I ever wish to visit or anything, comforts me.
Like a toxic ex-boyfriend though, I know, it would not be a good thing for me to visit him right now. Or for a little while.
I have things I need to finish before I can trade my life in for my fantasy life.