New York City, I Adore You!

If Louise was right, and you only get one great love, New York may just be mine. And I can’t have nobody talking sh*t about my boyfriend.

Carrie Bradshaw

New York City. It is the city that never sleeps, “concrete jungle where dreams are made of.” Everyone loves it. Well… everyone except for Senator Ted Cruz. It has a hustle and bustle of the streets; yellow taxis honk, Wall Street brokers rush to the Stock Exchange, sirens blare all around. The price of rent is soaring through the roof, while residents cram into housing complexes like sardines in a tin can. Rats, they flood the subways and alleyways. But here is the thing. That is what I want. I dream of being one of those “rude” New Yorkers. I dream of jeering at tourists in their “I Heart New York” t-shirts. I dream of influencing others like Anna Wintour, Editor-in-Chief at Vogue magazine, who captures the minds of the fashion industry. I dream of roaming the shops of SoHo like Carrie Bradshaw and her mix-match band of Manhattanites once did. I dream of making a name for myself. I dream of writing. It is my outlet. It is how I decompress and let loose. It is how I tell a story. I dream that one day I will see it, my name, printed on the cover of Vogue as a featured writer. But for now, I can only dream. I can only dream of being a “rude” New Yorker. I can only dream of those yellow taxis and rat flooded transportation stations. I can only dream of walking past The Met and through Central Park every morning on the way to work. I can only dream of getting in that elevator at Condé Nast, making my way up to the Vogue office, my desk, waiting for me to start the day. But until then, I will just sit here. I will sit here, and I will write. I will write about fashion. I will write about what inspires me. I will write for the people whose voices cannot be heard. Most importantly, I will write about the city that never sleeps, the “concrete jungle where dreams are made of.” I will write about New York City, the place that has my heart. The place that makes me say, “Hello, lover.”

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