Hey. It’s me: one person out of the millions of others who live here.
It’s funny how you’re able to squeeze us all in, despite the fact you’re so thin.
Guess it’s because us New Yorkers have grown accustomed to always being on top of one another.
We’ve managed to survive in apartments that are the size of high school lockers...
...with roommates who are pure filth, and roommates who are straight-up rodents...
...and we’ve even managed to survive on beans and bread when the budget was tight.
We’ve put up with your outlandish weather conditions, constant construction, and perpetual train delays.
Sometimes, you’re the actual worst.
But other times, just when I think you’ve given up on me, you turn around and surprise me.
If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t be nearly as resilient as I am now.
You’ve exposed me to things SO bizarre that I don’t do a double take when I see a person sword fighting trees in McCarren Park.
You have quite the devious sense of humor, and I’ve somehow learned to appreciate it.
You’ve taught me all about history, culture, religion, philosophy, and, most importantly, pigeontry.
People from other parts of the country will never truly understand what it means to live here: the REAL meaning of the tough love you give us.
As much as you’ve exposed me to cruel and unusual surroundings, above all else, I have to thank you for teaching me about my true self.
So yes, despite your dark and mysterious ways, New York... I will always love you.
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