everything i care about is somewhere else

I live in a suburb of central Pennsylvania. An unnatural development of cookie cutter houses surrounded on all sides by a sea of asphalt. I have to use a car to get anywhere, and the places I can go are, by and large, unremarkable. Strip malls, chain restaurants, Walmart, parking lots for Walmart. As a result, I spend most of my time sitting at home, on my computer or phone, pissing away the day on Instagram and the like.

Most of the year, I escape this. I go to school in Chicago. I love it there. I love being in a real place with real things happening. I met my girlfriend in Chicago. She lives in Manhattan. Visiting her is a joy, both because I'm with her, but also because I'm once again in a real place with real things happening. The hustle and bustle of crowds and trains, the sound of sirens and laughing in the distance. These cities buzz with energy. And then I come home, and this hollow despair creeps back in. All of the art and culture, the architecture and the views, all my good friends, my romantic partner. None of it comes back home with me, not really. Not beyond their flattened, artificial representations on the internet.

I had a moment the last time I was there, sitting on the roof of a home in the West Village, meeting her friends from high school. I like them, but there was a point when they began lamenting their situation, complaining about the private art high school they went to. "You fucking New York City babies are really complaining about this? Do you have any idea how good you have it?" This is what ran through my head. But the more I dwell on it, this isn't fair.

They're complaining about their circumstances in the same way I moan about mine. It's all they've ever known. I take for granted the creature comforts lent to me by suburbia, they take for granted their access to culture and people. Countless people dealt significant, materially worse hands than me would kill to be in my position in much the same way I would kill to be in the shoes of these city kids. But I can't help but be jealous and indignant. I complain from a place of privilege, yes, and maybe everyone thinks the good stuff is found elsewhere, but truthfully, I'm not entirely convinced of the parity here. I'd really like to be somewhere to begin with.

-7/8/26