I’m a New Yorker and I’m over it

Frank Sinatra crooned about it, Jay Z proudly confessed he was in an Empire State of Mind, and Gossip Girl fans worldwide dreamed of the day they would bump shoulders with elite beauties like Serena and Blair in the Big Apple. Well, let me tell you, the city is shitty, and I’m over it.

I grew up in one of the five boroughs and then moved to 10 miles outside of Manhattan. The city skyline was always within eyeshot for all my life. Both my parents work in the city, and commute there daily. I used to be proud of the fact that I could easily find my way around the island’s many cross-streets and districts, and loved it when tourists asked me for directions. For a moment, it made me feel like I belonged in this crazy city.

But after growing up in the NYC Metropolitan area for all my life, I’m done.

It’s hard to feel at home if you don’t feel loved. Every single time I’m in the city I find myself getting sassed by people, getting pushed, or even just getting ignored. And it’s not because I have a shitty attitude or because I’m an instigator. You could be the kindest person and still get taunted by people in NYC. It’s hard to be constantly on edge and be okay with it, because you’re getting catcalled or you’re rushing to catch a subway or a train or a bus. It’s hard to not be able to relax because you feel threatened at every turn because you decided to watch the news in the morning and there’s word of a new stabbing, robbery, assault, murder, bomb threat, mugging each day.

It’s hard to justify living in a shoebox for $1700 a month. It’s hard to believe that the smelly subway costs $2.75 one way, and it’s expected to rise. If I wanted to see rats at every turn, I’d rather go to the Mouse House at Bronx Zoo than see them on the subway platform. Or anywhere else in the city, for that matter.

It’s hard to believe that I can get myself an apartment in Miami Beach for less than what it costs to live in the shady outskirts of the city. It’s crazy to think that I can be relaxing by the palm trees and not shoveling out snow and dealing with the blustery nights for a considerately smaller sum.

Palm trees or smelly hobos?

It’s scary to think that people from all over come to make New York City their home and they can’t reach the level of success they were hoping for because at every turn, there are people more talented that serve to make them feel worthless and the prohibitively overpriced lifestyle makes people abandon their dreams and do whatever they can to make end’s meet. The last thing I want to be in this world, is a money hungry, angry person, but if you stay in the city for long enough, that’s exactly what you become. I often find myself reading HONY and wondering why so many of us put up with the continual abuse to get a metaphorical slice of a New York Cheesecake.

Sure, all the lights and cameras and glamour and restaurants and famous landmarks and history and music and overall vibe is exciting, it’s what draws many millions of tourists annually. But this vibe has washed me out and I’m only 18. I need to get out of this dog-eat-dog, concrete jungle.

I know I’m immeasurably privileged to grow up in an affluent area and I have the opportunity to leave if I want to. And I will, but I have to finish school first. And once I do, I can confidently say that I will be much happier in an environment that isn’t so cruel, relentless and overwhelming.