They say the only true goal in life is to be happy. And successful. Bonus if it’s both.

I grew up pretty sensitive.

So, I’m supposed to move on from a tragic heartbreak (or two) while trying to create a brand-new life in a new city? Like, at the same time? Yea, okay.

Lately, I’ve been feeling like I’m floating. Not necessarily in a euphoric way, but in a more “imposter syndrome” way.

It’s 10:29 PM on a Sunday night in March. Chicago is quiet, in its own way. I’m 23 years old, in my first apartment, and I’m finally doing this.