I grew up in a tiny town (with a whopping population of just under 10,000) on the border of two tiny states: Massachusetts and Connecticut. The most exciting thing to ever happen to our town was when someone who graduated went on to be in the Basketball Hall of Fame… she graduated about 21 years ago, and the street my high school was on was named after her. We really prided ourselves on that one.

Obviously, there wasn’t a lot going on in my small-town life. I constantly felt different from the people there, just not fitting into the conformed boxes that those in the town consistently tried to fit my peers and me into. I luckily didn’t catch the infectious disease that seemed to rule over everyone’s brain—the one where you’re stuck in your own head, in your own place, and never realize the world beyond your white picket fences and daisies growing in your garden.

Every year, I visited New York City for my birthday. I can tell you exactly what we did from my eighth birthday to my eighteenth. This will probably be my first birthday away from the city. It may not seem like that big of a deal, but breaking that tradition truly feels equal to breaking my heart. I wanted so badly to start my life there. My career there. I would’ve done anything. I tried everything to make it work. I just couldn’t financially. I thought hours of work at school and beyond in my home and social life would be enough to get me where I needed to be. I was wrong in thinking that; it got me to the front door of my future but I was stuck outside, locked out without a key.

So, I came to Boston. A city. An out. Something beyond my tightly knit community in a safe-haven world. I enjoy living here, as I feel like it’s super easy to get around, and it’s definitely a city with some small-town vibes (at least here at the University of Massachusetts Boston).

But sometimes I’ll be walking with a friend down by the harbor, and I’ll see the city skyline and notice how it’s so… small. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just different to someone who has periodically spent months of their life in the largest city in America.

My heart still hurts to this day when I force myself to come to terms with reality. But I am trying to have my home here, and one day make my way back to my heart’s home.

I love Boston because I know it is the right chapter for my life at this point. And I love Boston for being an option for me when New York just couldn’t be. Letting go of that dream, for now, has been really liberating. If I let my own thoughts and wants control me and my actions, I can become obsessed with a certain thought or idea and just will not be able to let it go until I get it done. Boston has showed me I can miss what used to be my home, while being in my new home. I have to admit, it did make me happy when my phone automated itself to adjust in my maps that Boston was now “home.” And I do feel like this is my city… at least partly.