Last night I had a dream about New York City.
It's still the place that I consider my city and sometimes it still hurts that I can't be there.
That's not to say that I'm not excited about moving to Alabama to move in with Zena, but there is still a part of me that seizes up and curls up into a ball and cries when I think about not being able to live in NYC.
Sometimes I think that it would have been better if my dream had always been a formless one. If I had never visited New York or gotten accepted to University there.
Of course, the writer in me feels validated that I got into Pratt, but the having the possibility in front of me and then loosing it makes me feel a bit like Charlie Brown and the football...
The really annoying thing is that I just want someone to listen to me...it hurts that I can't go, but when I try to talk to my mom about it she acts like i'm trying to guilt trip her because she can't afford to send me to Pratt.
The actually point is...I don't care about Pratt. Getting a degree in writing is next to useless in a lot of ways, I can learn and write on my own, but Pratt was my excuse to go and my ticket in. I don't have the money otherwise...
So I'll move to Alabama, but one day I swear I will make it to NYC.