I've been in New York for ten years and every part of me is tired. Every street is filled with more memories than people have in a lifetime. The come-and-go of this city will never cease to amaze me. One person in and then they're out. One friend in and then they're gone. One boyfriend/girlfriend in and then it's over. One job in and then it's done. Everything moves at the speed of lightening and we can't remember if we're hurt or sad or happy or angry or relieved or scared or afraid or excited. But every street is filled with a memory to take you right back to that moment where you realized that you loved something or hated something or miss something. The people who live in New York are a special breed. We are fighters. We are believers. We are hell bent on making it happen, whatever that it is and however long that it takes and wherever the winding, bumpy road takes us. We're still standing. I want everyone to feel proud about that. I have to remind myself to feel proud about that. If we can make it here, and by make it I mean still find a way to love, to laugh, to be open, to smile, to hope, to dream, to keep going, then I think we can make it anywhere. And by anywhere, I mean we can make it in our own hearts and minds to conquer anything.