I fly like paper get high like planes...

Leaving New York has always been an emotional affair. The question that always captivated my thoughts was: will I even return to this city I have so quickly fallen in love with. My trip to the airport today was paired with a very unfamiliar feeling. As my cab sailed out of Manhattan and through Queens and the skyline faded behind me, I realized that this was the first time I would be leaving New York knowing that I would soon return. It was one of the moments when I realized that this is my new home.

It seems so strange to be leaving home to go home. To be excited for overpasses, Jack-in-the-Box, trees, and driving, things I had taken for granted for obvious reasons. It’s amazing to think that even if I had wanted to, there is no possible way I could have drove a car these last five months. Life in New York is definitely noticeably different… duh. Every little thing I do is molded and transformed into the “New York way;” it’s become routine.

What am I going to do for 3 weeks without Starbucks out my front door? Will I remember how to drive? Do I really have to drive 20 minutes to get anything I might need… why can’t I just take the F train?! And why doesn’t Muhammad deliver to the middle of effing NO WHERE?

Mr. Pilot said I have to turn lappy off. Home is 20 minutes to the west and 7 hours back east.

N.

Welcome to Wendy's.. let me ruin your day.

Okay.

Don't hate me because YOU work at Wendy's.
Get a loan, go to college, get a real job and smile. Geez louisszzzzzzzz.

N.