It's been a month since I moved to New York City to follow my dreams to become a fashion photographer. And the starving artist life is not romantic at all.

This month was hard. Adjusting to a new city, where I practically know no one, was something I was not prepared for. Witnessing the lack of work-life balance in this city was appalling. Working 50-hour weeks is also very draining, physically and especially emotionally. I realized I wasn't as brave as I thought I was, and I cried a lot, I complained, and went through very depressing days. There was so much fear, uncertainty, pessimism. This month was a reality check. Within my first two weeks I thought about quitting my internship and moving back to California, a place of love, safety, comfort, and familiarity. 

But some days give me a glimpse into my dreams again, and I'm reminded of why I made this decision to move to New York in the first place. Meeting new friends who try to sell me on the amazingness of New York, rubbing elbows with long-time idols, hearing my friends from back home cheering me on in admiration, finding new models, bloggers, and dancers to shoot, and attending fashion week brought me back some of that optimism. With Facetime dates, I feel closer than ever to those friends from back home. I'm bonding with other artist souls who relate to my struggles. I'm exploring a city that I've always loved and learning to make it my home. I'm slowly making my dreams come true, even if I can't see it.

I'm growing through the pain, and coming to the realization that maybe freedom is a double-edged sword. Writing your own destiny isn't all that it's cracked up to be, but without the struggle, what's the meaning of success? I'm determined to live a life with no regrets, and this is just the beginning. 

I'll try.