32 Truths Every Person Who Dreams Of Moving To NYC Understands
No one can afford to live in Manhattan. We get it.
People are constantly telling you how unaffordable the city is.
Everyone feels the need to inform you that the job market is FREAKISHLY COMPETITIVE.
Your mother is perpetually worried that if you move to New York, you'll get murdered.
When people tell you there are cockroaches all over and rats the size of your feet, you're like, "All right, I'll deal."
When you're stuck behind a slow walker, you're like, "This would never happen in New York."
When people tell you to "tone it down," you think, "I'm meek, by New York standards."
You've already perfected your cab-hailing technique.
You've broken up with a significant other because they just "couldn't see themselves living in New York."
And when you find yourself moving anywhere that isn't New York -- for a job, for a significant other, for no reason at all -- you're like, "Wait, what am I doing?"
You dream about being squished between sweaty strangers on the subway, because that means you'll really be a part of it.
You're drawn to the struggle, the hustle, the nearly impossible odds.
You compulsively check Craigslist ads for the studio apartment of your dreams.
Whether it's Sinatra, Jay Z, or LCD, you have a New York City anthem that keeps you going.
You dream of wearing whatever the hell you want and having nobody give you a second glance.
It's impossible for you to watch Manhattan without questioning your entire existence.
You fantasize about your walks through the city at dusk.
You just know that "people living anywhere else have to be, in some sense, kidding.” Including you.
Everybody tells you it's going to be harder than you think, and you're like, "That's exactly what I want."
In your mind, there's no alternative. There never has been.
You dream of those Brooklyn rooftops with a view of the city skyline.
When friends who moved to New York start complaining, you're like, "What were you expecting?!"
You're convinced the only cure for your perpetual restlessness is the most restless city on earth.
No place on earth -- no other city, no natural landscape, nothing -- is more beautiful to you than the New York skyline.
When you have a layover at Newark or JFK, you have to force yourself not to run out and hail a cab into the city.
You've known you needed to move to New York since you were 12. Or like, in utero.
You've already plotted out your jogging route in Central Park.
Hell, you're already chosen between the Yankees and the Mets.
You've done the math, and you know that once you make the move, there will be days, weeks, years when the only earthly possession you have to your name is the city itself.
You know New York is filthy and filthy expensive and full of people who could never care less about you and your dreams.
You know that New York is gonna kick you in the guts and push you to the ground and tell you that you're not the only one.
You know in your heart that New York could not give less of a shit about you.
That's exactly how you know it's where you belong.
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