I can think of infinitely many reasons why I love the city better than any other kind of setting, but I am always straddling a line when it comes to my sense of belonging.
They say New York City is for extroverts; people who can survive in such a people-filled but lonely place. People like me-- who feel that all they need are the people who they keep close (and who also have the agency to un-bestfriend or ex-girlfriend them at any given moment)-- could feel one of two ways: (1) complacent in the unbothered nature of one's proximal relationships or (2) dissatisfied in the social opportunities constantly being missed.
I relate most with (1) but feel pressured to relate more to (2).
On top of that, people are so competitive here and I am far from ever feeling that way, especially financially.
A few years ago in my state of further naivety, gushing over not-so-cool indie musicians, I once saw a post by one of these romantics (male indie musicians are almost all heavy romantics) of a barren grassy field with a single aged and wooden house plopped on top of it. This is where I want to live with my future wife. The caption said something along those lines, probably in a more poetic fashion. Then he listed things they would do together in this secluded home.
As a pretty serious and boring person myself, it surprised me when I thought it sounded like a boring life. But now I don't know how much of that I would actually mind. If it really became something as meaningful to me as it was to this musician, then I would truly hope that that would be my own aspiration to live in such a serene place.
Unfortunately, not long after he posted this lovely photo, the "love of his life" the photo was dedicated to disappeared. Whatever that meant, he proposed to a different woman a few months later and now they are happily married-- hopefully not in that lovely secluded home.
