Officially on medical leave from work, my heinous skin condition has, in recent weeks gotten worse. I needed time off, time away from the things that were stressing me out. I’d already planned on going to New York for a couple of days, but when I found myself with a surplus of time, I came a day earlier. Now, some might say that New York is far from a relaxing environment. Au contre. The truth is, along with the hustle, the bustle, the smog, the noise, the idiot tourists, the insane cab drivers, and sensory overload, New York is (and always will be) my kind of town. I feel happy here. I feel like I can get lost in it’s crowds, discover new things, and best of all, it’s the least boring city on the planet. Of course, I’ve only ever been to a handful of cities on this planet, but you know what I mean.

Already, I’m feeling better, more relaxed and my skin is clearing up. It’s like magic. For so long I’ve been struggling with myself, with work, and with the way the world operates. I’ve needed to leave for months. Since my Dad died, all I could think about was getting out of town. You see, when I don’t travel, when I don’t have a plan to travel, I feel like I’m suffocating. I feel stifled and I really start to feel that life is meaningless and bleak; that there really is no point to being here aside from basic survival and the annoying complexities of bills and jobs.

When I come to a place far from home, the world is new and I’m filled with this sense that anything is possible. Here, in the Center of the Universe, steam rises from manholes, the air smells of car exhaust, nuts, and hot dogs. It’s loud and the cab drivers will kill you if you’re not quick enough, but it’s beautiful and calm at the same time. It’s perfect. I don’t have to smile if I don’t want to…which oddly enough, makes me smile.