I always told myself that I was going to go far away for college. Whether it was the tropics or the tundra, it didn’t matter as long as I was moving somewhere distant. Furthermore, I considered my life up until college to be a bubble, one that I needed to break free of. Yet, I was not the person who could open an admissions letter and immediately decide if I would accept my spot. It was weeks of tossing and turning until I was able to make up my mind. The whole time, I fought myself on whether I should leave or whether I should spend the next four years where I spent my past 17. It was not until the day I made my college decision that I was sure that I was staying in New York. Before that, my dreams revolved around a new city with new friends and a new life, all of which college seemed to promise. Originally, I was sure that I was going to some other metropolis and that some other skyline would become my home, but that was no longer the case.
New York was all that I had ever known, so, like any rebellious teenager, I fell out of love with it. The city was tethered to my childhood, and I felt I had grown out of it. Somehow, I had convinced myself that in order to change myself, I needed to change my surroundings. If I stayed in New York, it felt like college would just be a repetition of the monotonous life of high school. Unless I dropped everything and ran the farthest I could, I would not develop as a human being.
Then one morning, I woke up and realized that the only person telling me that I needed to leave this city was myself. I had developed that notion and continued to believe it until I knew better. I have new friends and a new life now (that one is still up for debate), but the city still feels like home. Things are changing for me, but I never needed to leave for that to happen.
It honestly would have made no sense for me to leave in the first place. Every single school I went to gave a whole spiel about how they could possibly get me an internship in New York, expecting my chin to drop to the floor. Why go somewhere else and outsource for opportunities when I was already here? Everything was always here.
There were definitely moments that I felt I was cheating myself. I was lucky enough to be able to go away for school, but for some reason I decided not to leave. My dorm is a subway ride away from home, and that is both a comfort and a crutch that could be easily abused. Initially, there was a fear that I would become Rory Gilmore, who would spend more time at home than on campus and whose mother would pop into the dorm on the regular. Thankfully, that has not happened.
There surely are cons to staying so close to home: The loss of wonder from being in a new place is a large one. I will never see New York in the same way that my classmates who are new to NYC have. When someone mentions a place to go visit, usually I will respond with a story about how so-and-so did something there, which reeks of the New York elitism that city natives pride ourselves on. No matter how long someone else lives here, we will never be able to reconcile our images of what this city is, and there is a sense of beauty in that. But every morning I open my window and just think: Damn, this is beautiful.
Last week, I sat and watched the sunrise on the grass over Low Library. The city was quiet, and it felt as though I was the only person in the world watching. In that moment, I think I fell in love with New York all over again.