You've become the bane of my existence, yet I wouldn't be who I am today without you.
And for that I will always be indebted to you and your endless summer nights dancing at my favorite gay bar and lets not forget that your selection in ice cream and cannolis is superb and quite possibly orgasmic to an extent.
Don't judge assholes, sex in your mouth is a real thing, and it's called cannolis at that deli on 96th and Columbus.
I love you. You know I do, but let's chat for a hot sec. While you have made so many of my dreams come true, you're holding me back.
Is that really your fault? Honestly? No. That's all on me. None of this is your fault, it never has been, nor will it ever be. But come on, I bet you hear this a lot, because it is just to easy not not to blame you.
A very specific type of person moves to new York city. They want it all, but expect none of it. Well they expect it, but they are smart enough to know what shall be sacrificed to justify their "dreams."
And while that sounds very dismal, it's not. It's the best distraction of any reality you will ever find yourself in.
Perfect example, I'm writing this post on my terrace that overlooks the upper east side and the empire state building AND the Chrysler building. And I'm probably drunk (I'm definitely drunk) on overpriced generic beer while listening to some hard core rap in the dead of night.
You can't not not feel like a privileged little asshole whilst in this situation. I also just used the word "whilst." So you can go shoot me now.
There is no other place where I could be doing this than right here and right now. Do I want to be somewhere else right now? Yes. But that's not you, New York, that happens to everyone everywhere.
It just happens to be one of those days for me and a handful of other people in the city. We will forget this feeling in a few days and fall back into your loving arms very soon.
Luckily, you make life a little easier to live when you've hit "that moment." Too many distractions, too many hot dog stands to not love what you bring to society.
My only request is that you bring down the price of Michelob Ultra at the deli downstairs. Twelve bucks for a six pack is just absurd.
I also hate how you know that I'm too lazy to walk down to the local Duane Reade to buy a cheaper six pack, even if it's only two blocks away.
I wish I was high right now. My mind is always clearer under the influence. But you already knew that New York. That's why I can text a random number and have that shit delivered.
You're perfect. I hope you know that and I hope you never forget that or the moments that we've had together. I'm not leaving anytime soon, but if I don't say this now, I'll take you for granted yet again.
At the ripe age of 23 I'm finally starting to learn that communication is a very important part of survival. It's a bitch, but absolutely necessary.
So I'll say it again, I love you New York. You are what makes me, me. And I will always be here loving you, as long as you promise to do the same.
And you just started playing the one song that ultimately brings me to tears... The ice cream truck song.
You win New York, you always do.