I have no words to describe my New York trip. There have been times in my life that I’ve attempted to write about a positive experience and just wound up crying while writing it and then posting it to my blog and still not feeling satisfied with what I’ve said and also a little embarrassed about it because I sound like an overemotional baby. 

That said, I am not going to bother to write a whole post telling you everything I did and how good seeing faces that I love in a city that makes me far more comfortable than the one that I’ve been living in for the last four years made me feel. 

I am not a fan of Los Angeles. I’m pretty open about that. I don’t hate the sunshine, I love my friends, the beach is mad important to me and work is the reason that I live at all and this is a great place to do a lot of that. But you wanna know what? I’m lonely here. I have awesome friends and it’s not their fault, but let me put it this way: I’m starting to feel like LA is a really unsupportive boyfriend that I’m sticking with because he’s handsome and I don’t want to be bothered to pack my shit up and find a new place. I really did feel like a battered wife going back home to her man after a weekend in Vegas with her French lover as I sat at the airport bar this afternoon. I’ll always want to come back to LA to visit, but living here? I want to be done as soon as possible. 

It could be a year before I can consider leaving. There’s about a 50% chance that I could have work out in NY that would top anything I’ve done thus far, but it will be a while out before I know anything about that. There’s also another huge chance that it wont work out and that I’ll be stuck here until I learn to like it or my parents’ cellar is more appealing (Yeah, like, I’d literally be living in the basement if I moved home. Trip on THAT.) 

I’m sad right now. Hopeful, but also pretty sad. I’ll figure it out.