I think of myself as blessed to have so many great friends. I don’t have a huge group who all hang out together. Instead, I’ve been fortunate enough to pick up some priceless gems here and there along the journey of life.
I thank my lucky stars every day for my friends. Because I moved away from home at such a young age, they were the people that witnessed firsthand my emotionally-charged, teenaged roller-coaster, the people who lent me literal shoulders to cry on, hugged me when I was successful and ventured into the wilds of the world with me.
I remember back to the first time I went overseas at 14. I diligently kept a travel journal with all my ticket butts, brochures and postcards. In a lot of ways I feel like writing about my time in New York on here is exactly the same thing, but it’s making me feel a little nostalgic for the magic of that very first trip.
Hello everyone! I am writing this post from my friend’s loft apartment on the Upper West Side of… NEW YORK! This is my first trip to America- as per usual, for a ballet competition, and my excitement levels in the lead up to getting on the plane here were akin to my seven-year-old self on Christmas morning.