Back in May I packed all my belongings and set off to make a name for myself in the charming city of New York. A fresh start and my first big boy job. It was my time to shine.

I was ecstatic, until I wasn’t.

The once alluring skyline quickly began to fade. The clouds found comfort in smothering my ambitious eyes.

I missed my family. I missed my friends. My dream job, it turns out, fell inches short of the perfect fit. Worse yet, the city I so desperately wanted to love didn’t think twice before throwing my identity to the curb.

My generally optimistic foundation began to falter, and the train was always late. With the whole world in front of me, I couldn’t see past the nightmares that kept me awake. Even the well lit Madison Avenue couldn’t help me find the man I was just months before.

Loneliness and sorrow were frequent guests.

As my struggles played on repeat, the roof top of my overpriced apartment lent me his hand.

Then one night with my eyes set on the city, I began to cry.

Breathtaking. Beautiful. Solace in the skyline.An immense wave of gratitude welcomed me.

How could I not have seen this before?

My life post rooftop epiphany isn’t perfect. I still miss my family and friends. And sometimes, despite the electric pulse of New York, I feel like I’m the only person in the world.

But things are looking up. Not because my circumstances changed, but because the horizon of New York city reminded me that underneath the uncertainty is an abundance of little smiles waiting to be released.

Don’t get me wrong. The train will still run late, you’ll still trip and fall. And sometimes you’ll feel like giving up.

But in those special moments of appreciation, no matter how small, you remember why you’re alive.