Dear Manhattan,

I don't know why I love you. You smell. You are in a state of constant gridlock. Your extravagantly overpriced apartments are pieces of shit, with things that are considered basic elsewhere sold as "luxuries" here. You have a rat problem, a roach problem, a bedbug problem, a garbage problem, and you're so noisy I didn't sleep last night. And how about some affordable food? You're like an abusive spouse that I just can't leave... because I still love you even with all my bruises.