welcome to New York?

It feels so scary getting old.

I’ve dreamed of this moment every day since I was ten. I don’t know exactly what first exposed me to the glory of Manhattan, but it’s had me in a chokehold ever since.

My childhood bedroom was covered in band posters and Broadway programs. My glittery Justice heart-lock journals were filled with little manifestations of what this day would be like. I might not be the international superstar I thought I’d be by now, but honestly? I’m doing pretty damn good.

I’m drinking a glass of champagne in my dad’s free, upgraded first-class seat—his gift to me after a never-ending five-hour loop of delays. My favorite playlist is on, and I’m writing this to you.

“Ribs” by Lorde just came on, and one lyric hit especially hard today: “It feels so scary getting old.”

Lorde, I don’t know if I want to kiss you or punch you for that one. Because as scary as it feels to be heading into the biggest city in the world, moving into approximately 400 square feet of it, and starting a dream job—I’m weirdly calm.

Which is so unlike me. I don’t have a chill bone in my body. I’m the Type A, bags-packed-a-week-early, highlighter-coded-to-do-list kind of girl. But this summer? It just feels different.

The best word I have for it is itchy.

I’m itching to wake up and run through Central Park.

Itching to grab an overpriced latte and sit in Washington Square Park to people-watch and read.

Itching to walk home from work and stop at a West Village happy hour just because I can (and I’m 21, so suck it).

Itching to write like Carrie Bradshaw in my tiny, overpriced apartment—minus the chain smoking.

Itching to eat my way through the restaurant list I’ve been adding to a Google Sheet for months.

Itching to meet new friends and collect embarrassingly chaotic stories along the way.

So yes, is it scary getting old? Abso-fucking-lutely.

But is it also the most fulfilling feeling in the world? You betcha.

I’ve never felt this proud of myself—and I’m ecstatic to admit that. Maybe I’ll end up hating living alone, or grow wildly annoyed with the sound of my own thoughts. But at least I’ll get to say I tried. And I’m going to give it everything I’ve got.

Maybe getting older doesn’t have to be scary. Maybe it can be comforting—like your body’s way of saying, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be. That the hard work paid off. That feeling calm in the middle of something terrifying means you’re on the right path.

Maybe NYC was always meant for me. Or maybe I’ll end up broke and ready for the next thing—ready for the next calm that follows the scary leap.

Getting old doesn’t have to be scary. It might just be the best feeling in the world.

So, I can’t help but wonder… will it all be exactly the way I dreamed it up to be?