I wish I could easily laugh at all of these lists denoting the rational horrors of NYC with a tongue-and-cheek wit so as not to depress the masses with these all too real details. However, my melancholy is not so easily dismissed by playful gifs and Ryan Gosling’s hotness- who am I kidding my mind blanks when I stare into his beautiful eyes. Hey girl, it’s OK. Yes, I nod lucidly, it is OK.

What is it about this city that allows us to lay down and accept these outrageous inconveniences with a sense of accomplishment instead of screaming with mind-numbing fury about metro card prices, raised taxes and the painful closing of Kennedy Fried Chicken on Knickerbocker. I’m still recovering from the shock of seeing my beloved hangover haven covered with evil tarps and malevolent scaffolding leaning against it’s poor diminishing frame. I need a minute.

Seriously though I know so many people scrapping by, although, I use that term loosely and relatively because no one I know is truly suffering an inescapable burden here due to well, many factors, but there is still that strange camaraderie that surfaces whenever anyone complains about the city bringing them down. It brings us all down. We can all relate to that person who sat underground for an hour without so much as a syllable uttered by the subway operator, wondering if the air supply is enough to sustain a car full of excitable teenagers, 122784 babies, and that one homeless dude who is making it all too clear that the entire subway seat- ALL OF IT- is his. So as you’re standing there, uncomfortably nestled between one woman’s large bosoms and an aloof student still carrying their backpack, you begin to wonder, is this all really worth it?

Honestly, as much as I talk about how overrated this city sometimes appears to be in the media, in movies, scary tourists’ exclamations, something happens that makes me eat my words and throws me back into the same confounding, illogical hyperbole that this is the best city in the world.

Dammit NYC, I just can’t quit you.