"Home is where the heart is meant to be..."

Home. A safe-place. A heaven. A utopia. New York City.

At the end of October I spent a week in the city I like to refer to as home. It was my first visit, but I'd been wanting to visit for years. I knew I'd instantly fall in love, and not want to leave...and I did.

There was something about the city that just clicked with me. Maybe it was the tall buildings. Maybe it was the 'hub' like atmosphere it had there. Maybe it was Broadway. Maybe it was the parks surrounded by sky scrapers. Whatever it was, it made me want to stay even more. I thought 'fuck everything at home, this is where I want to be, why should I leave?'

Reality maybe? Money. Jobs. Visas. Seriously, would it even be a possibility.

I told my friend Sally as we walked from breakfast one morning: "I just feel so at home here."

She replied with: "Yeah, I could imagine you living here, it suits you."

My heart melted a little more. Who am I kidding? My heart melted A LOT!

All I know is, home is where the heart is meant to be, and I sure know my heart isn't meant to be here.