End of Beginning
By Natalie McCarty
A few months ago, DJO’s “End of Beginning” was blowing up on social media. Though I’ve loved the song for a long time, seeing it plastered all over my feed made me revisit its lyricism. The lyrics, “And when I’m back in Chicago, I feel it / Another version of me, I was in it / I wave goodbye to the end of beginning,” struck a deep chord with me, as they did with millions of others.
Lately, I’ve been diving back into my past — not in a sad way, but more like rediscovering my life. Something always called me to New York. My ex-boyfriend used to say there was something inherently “Natalie” about the city. Or maybe there was always something innately “New York” about me.
This song has that vibe of flipping through View-Master slides: pure nostalgia encapsulated. The random lucky number on a street sign, the concert that felt electric, the subway ride where I couldn’t help but cry in front of strangers. The view from the High Line, the horizon from Little Island. Seeing Van Gogh’s Starry Night on a random Thursday at the MoMA. Elton John’s “Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters” blaring from a Williamsburg fire escape.
In New York, you live life up close and personal. You’re thrown together with people and forced to figure it out. People are either lifeboats or icebergs (like the one that sunk the Titanic) in your future. No one’s thriving in New York; everyone’s hustling to survive. Even the richest and most connected are just trying to stay afloat. Every day, you either stay on top of your game or get swallowed up.
It’s desperate, it’s starving. It’s animalistic. And it’s also really romantic. The daisies in the park, the benches with dedicated plaques of love letters to those who have been loved or who have been lost.
Everything feels so much more eternal, infinite, and passionate in New York. I don’t know how to explain it other than that.
Moving back to Los Angeles was ultimately the best decision for me, even if it meant shedding the person I was and the life I had crafted. There was a different spirit about me in New York — a magnetism to all things tumultuous and thrilling.
Nobody lives in that city just to simply live; they’re all building something. Everyone you meet has an ambition, fueled by a deep passion. Everybody is willing to sacrifice something for the right price. It’s barbaric and riveting. It’s exhausting as much as it is exciting.
Nothing happens at a normal rate: it’s your highest highs or your lowest lows. The city is its own beast, an underlying current in your life story. Half of the day is spent just figuring out how to navigate it or survive in it.
So when I’m back in New York, I feel it. Another version of me, I was in it. I’m sure much of who I was still haunts that city, lingering around my old apartment or in Washington Square. It’s the only place on Earth where a year feels like a lifetime. If you want to live a multitude of lives, stay there for a month. Things move so quickly that by the time you realize what you have, it’s already gone — real “Dust in the Wind” style.
I do miss it, but I miss it like how one misses an ex-boyfriend. I know it wasn’t good for me, but I also know it made me a different person. It was something special, something that only I knew in that certain way. It is, however, a relationship I know I’ll be back for. Just maybe when we’ve both had some more time to grow.
