Natalie
13
I flew.
And, two weeks later, I was standing in my own apartment on the Upper West Side. New York City might have ruined my life. But it had also brought me everything my heart had ever wanted. It was the city of dreams, and I intended to dive in headfirst.
It did nothing to dispel the nagging bit of fear that said that this was too good to be true. Or that moving here wouldn’t even work. Maybe I couldn’t write in New York City either.
I smothered the thought. It’d do no good, fretting on that. I had moved to New York to write, and write I would.
As soon as I finished unpacking. It was amazing, the amount of stuff I hadn’t accumulated when living out of a suitcase for a year and a half and then hunkering down in my best friend’s guest bedroom for a year. I really had nothi
