I used to feel this strong desire to live in New York City. It was an almost painful yearning for something that I thought may never happen. My mom told me that I shouldn't, but if I did, that she was coming to live with me as my protection! Numerous other family members and friends told me that NYC was a nice place to visit but not a preferential place to live. I felt as though my dream was just that, a nice idea, a disappearing life that I had planned for myself. With all the negative responses, I kept fiercely fighting back for my dream. I thought that if I wanted it bad enough, it would eventually happen.
Now, I don't feel that strongly about it. After my boyfriend and I went to visit recently, my fierce passion about living in NYC died. Do you want to know the reason why? It's not because I stopped loving New York. My dreams didn't disappear either. What happened was this: I finally realized that it was possible for me to live in New York. My dream was entirely attainable. I was always told and had always thought that I was dreaming too big or not being realistic. While I was there, however, I couldn't stop thinking about how attainable my aspirations are.
I want a big life. I mean, really big. I have so many plans, so many ideas, and I plan on doing all of them.