New york city.

One year ago today, I moved into my pre-war, walk-up apartment in the center of downtown Manhattan. My mom helped me move in, and we ate Ruby’y avocado chicken salad on my uneven floor with paper forks. The only thing in the apartment was my rug. My bed had been delayed in shipping, and I slept on the couch for the first week. My very first night alone was a Friday; I ate Chipotle on my floor and remember thinking, fuck, am I really going to be happy here? Moving across the country away from everyone I love? New York has always been a dream, and finally making it here and doing it was what I always wanted; but when I got here, all I…