Maybe when you first moved here, you were like me. You never dreamed you would be just another corporate shill on the Midtown chopping block. But lo and behold, that job you found on Craig’s List led you straight to New York’s own version of Hades. You had to take it. What choice did you have? You’ll never be young or financially secure enough to risk working at a startup downtown. So fuck it, you’ll surrender to the proverbial man, much like your 90s forefathers and mothers who pretended to live a life that promoted counterculture. But now, instead of Contempo Casuals to console us, all we have is Zara. And men, well, I don’t know what the fuck they have except a greater propensity for tolerating mindlessness.
All you can really cling to is the faint memory that, once upon a time, you didn’t work in Midtown. You were a normal human being deemed a weirdo because you didn’t have a job. You didn’t fret over how long the Chop’t line was going to be at lunch. You didn’t enjoy the long lines at Duane Reade as you took a break to buy a Diet Coke, because it meant you didn’t have to go back to that place. Alas, this is what you’ve turned into: just another Midtown drone. But it’s important to remember who you used to be outside of Midtown if you’re going to survive this strange period in your life.