Everyone told me I'd love you. Then some of them told me they lied.
I desperately want the romance. But you show me no enchantment. I want to love you. I want to understand. And while I tell them all you're fabulous...sometimes you feel empty. Flat. Boring. Unimpressive. This city. That neighborhood. These hills make me nauseous. My head aches and I feel dizzy with regret. Nostalgia for what you aren't. Will never be. Looking around. Aching for the North Carolina coast. The New York autumns. My Brooklyn. New England. Virginia. The places I know. The spaces which love me back. The trees I once climbed and the waters I swam. The air is different. The view. Your hills are too hilly. Your oceans too cold. This city...not mine. Not yet.
Oh where are my New Yorkers? And grandma. I miss you so much.