4 Years~ 7 months~ 4 days

I am not really sure the direction these daily admissions will go, why I am choosing now to write it and what I can expect to find. Just that I currently feel a need to understand a decision that thousands of women contemplate taking and right now I have a perspective to convey...a story to tell.

I moved to New York 4 years, 7 months and 4 days ago and as all acts of desperation usually start, my reservations regarding the decision far outweighed the motivation. Little did I know then that I would find my choice to be exponentially far more difficult than I could ever imagine. Someday still I think that I may live to regret what I did. I left the comforts of family, friends and all that apparent prosperity in a place I never regarded as home for an alternative commonly known to be as inhospitable as the Serengeti. In New York if you stop to take a breath you are swallowed instantly by the pack. It was everything tragic and terrifying that I could have imagined and more. My semi-wise male friend once expressed a highly unoriginal observation to me and stated that, "every chick that moves here wants Carrie Bradshaw in Sex in the City". I suppose that could have been applied to a multitude of women, whether just a whiff of an idealistic dream or an actual motive. Then soon following there is always a point, if you are a sane rational woman you should realize all that idealism should regress and stay in that imaginary world of high end wardrobes and pinnacles of success all born from a dollar and a dream.

Truthfully, the city has loved me, seduced me and broke my impressionable heart. It witnessed my abject defeat with the coldest indifference. It lifts me from the abyss only to throw me back into a fiery chasms. Yet I want it, more and more with each passing year. I feel lost to it now futile against its allure and increasingly tolerant to the subtle ways it's cynicism insinuates itself in my character. Much like a drug and even with the passing interventions of consistent disappointments, it only takes one brief momentary high to bring me back. To any girl that reads this and perhaps dreams my fate, I wanna tell you how I have managed to survive my addiction. I want to start with dispelling that Manolo mind frame and embracing this paycheck to paycheck, penniless in Central Park independence for a moment and just see where it leads me. I've got one chance and one life to do this. Maybe it will be an epic cataclysmic disaster but so far 4 years, 7 months and 4 days later, I'm still strapping my sample sale find and happily going out to meet my dealer.