I remember the first time I realized I belonged somewhere. My dad and I decided to take a trip into the city this past summer to visit my aunt. I have been to the city a few times as a kid, but this specific trip was different. As soon as we got off the ferry, we headed towards the subway. I slid my metro card and we walked towards our platform. I listened to the humming as the car made its way towards us and a gush of wind blew my hair past my shoulders as it halted to a stop. I looked around at the people rushing inside and quickly sat down before the doors shut. As soon as the car jolted forward I felt a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. It wasn’t quite a feeling like I was going to be sick...but more like when I see someone I love. I was a little confused but I didn’t think too much about it. Once I saw the bolded 42nd street sign as the car slowed down the feeling in my stomach got a bit stronger. I was probably just hungry. I dashed up the stairs like a little kid as soon as the doors opened. Even though I’ve seen this city many times before, it didn’t seize to amaze me. My dad laughed as he tried to keep up with me. I made it to the top of the steps and gazed up at all the buildings and neon lights. This wasn’t the first time I’ve been in Times Square but at that moment something within me changed. The feeling in the pit of my stomach was stronger than ever before and my knees started to shake a bit. I didn’t understand why I was acting so weird. I stopped walking and leaned against the railing in front of a coffee shop. Then it stopped. The feeling, my worries, my expectations, time...everything just stopped. It’s almost like the people around me were walking in slow motion. I saw the bright colors of the billboard signs, I heard the music of street artists pumping in my ears. My senses were heightened and I felt a rush I simply couldn’t put into words. I smiled at the buildings and backed up from the railing. The people started to walk at full pace and I hastily avoided being trampled. I heard the car horns blare and the muffled yells of pedestrians and street side salesman. My dad came up to me and asked me if I was ok. I nodded and smiled. I couldn’t quite explain what had just happened but I knew I was meant to live there one day. That feeling in the pit of my stomach was love. I was in love with this city and somehow everything I needed and wanted was right there in front of me.
I want to live in New York someday. The bright colors, the fast-paced city life, the giant slices of greasy pizza, seem like second nature to me. Most of the time I feel as though I don't quite fit in. The way I dress, the music I listen to, the way I express myself, it never seems to match up with the places I find myself in. Standing in the street that day felt like I was a puzzle piece that finally found a place to fit in perfectly. I didn’t have to jam myself in so I could fit amongst the other pieces. I slide into place smoothly like I should have been there all along. I want to remember that feeling whenever I feel out of place. Now I see there’s a place out there where I can feel whole...somewhere I feel like I belong. I don’t know what the future holds for me but I do know I need some part of it, if not all of it to take place in this city.