I'm back in New York city after two years of trying to fall in love with California. It just didn't take and I had to come screaming back to my first love: New York.
But this time, it's different. Now I know I can't live anywhere else. Before, when I was living in New York, I thought I could go on to other places and be happy. I thought I could live anywhere. Now I know that's not true; I'm a prisoner of New York City. For how long, I do not know.
I've never been married, but this is what I feel: resentment. Like the day after the wedding, I look at my spouse who I'm supposed to love above all others and who I've chosen to be with for the rest of my life and I think, "I'm stuck with you?"
New York is not perfect. It's cramped and dirty and expensive and competitive and there isn't a straight or right angle on the whole isle of Manhattan. I knew all these things when I was a care-free fiancee, but now that I'm married, all these flaws are glaring and difficult to swallow.
Just for today, I will love New York as it deserves to be loved. Because I dated his ugly, safe brother with a good job--Sacramento--and that sh*t just ain't happening.