Dear New York City,

My dad has worked in the Financial District for more than 25 years now, and he was uneasy when I told him last summer that I'll be working there as well. He was apprehensive because he thought I was too young (not true) and mentioned that I have a horrible sense of direction (very true). My mom prepared me for my first train ride as if I was about to get murdered, telling me to be aware of all the craziness around me and to make sure to never take a late train home. It was a lot to take in, but once I stepped into you, NYC, I felt right at home.

NYC, my obsession with you has been fueled by all the old movies and literature I've consumed about you over the years. You're another world entirely - the hustle and bustle and beautiful shops with diverse people. It's exciting and terrifying because you never know what you're going to get. You can find a modern bookstore or a charming coffee shop just around the block. People come from all over the world to live here or even just to visit. What they bring to the city that never sleeps is part of what makes New York so great.

I think as people mature, we get to a point in our lives where we just stop caring about what other people think. It's not that way completely, but it's just enough to be happy and to remain happy. That's probably the first thing I noticed about NYC people; they just don't care about what other people are thinking. I saw a lot of young people enjoying a book and smiling, humming along to music or walking around at their leisure enjoying the day among the rush of commuters. I've spent my whole life caring about what other people think about me and what other people say about me, and that criticism hurts. After this summer, I started to realize that happiness comes from within. I also realized that not too many people care about what you look like or what you're doing because they are too busy doing their own thing.

After spending a summer with you NYC, my body physically cannot walk at a slow rate, and my blood pressure rises when I'm walking behind someone who refuses to walk at a fast pace. I love your craziness, and I'm thankful that I feel like you're my second home. I look forward to the day when I can call you my real home, so wait for me!