When I moved to New York, I quickly found a niche of people (mostly North Carolinians) that became my group of friends. In the 2+ years I've been here, every single one of those individuals has moved away. It's scary to be alone in this city and it hurts to think about how far away every one I love really is.
When I think about missing home, I think about the home I knew about two and a half years ago. I had family, I had friends, and they were all right there. Though I didn't see each and every one of them all the time, the fact that they were there was a comfort. I have no comfort of home here.
Sometimes I think back on my reasonings for moving here. What was I really looking for? The obvious answer is that I came to work, to make a career for myself, but as that is now, I'm not really finding myself on a path to a career. Did I move for independence? Possibly, and I have certainly found that here, but I was pretty independent before as well. A lot of people think I moved to run away from my problems. I guess in a way, that is true too. Moving here helped me to overcome an extreme emotional low point in my life.
When people ask me why I moved away, I don't really have an answer for them. I just shrug my shoulders and say, "I just did." Most of the time, I am happy with my decision to move away from home.
But, on nights like this when I feel alone, I wish for a time when the comforts of home could coincide with my life as it is now. And, I wonder if it will ever happen.