My friend Melissa has a way with words.
Read some of them here.
(And then come back, please).
Essentially, Melissa argues that Chicago is like, if I can dabble in cliche, a fickle lover.
And, holy moly, do I ever agree.
Chicago can love you so hard. The people, the culture, the lake. All amazing things literally within minutes away. When I look out my window in the morning, sometimes I can not believe that this is MY life. That I get to live by the lake, or have two of my brothers across the street. Being minutes away from concerts, shows, cool bars and restaurants. Pretty amazing.
And yet? And yet. Chicago is COLD (and I'm not talking about just January). I've been robbed by a thug robber (don't even get me started), nearly hit by CTA buses (note the plural), and just generally abused ($2 for a fountain Diet Coke? $6 for a Guinness? ABUSE).
There is something magical about it here, though, something that I suspect belongs in most major cities. There's a sparkle of diversity, a sheen of something in the air - excitement, ambition? It's this sparkle, this excitement, this FUN that brought me here.
And keeps me here, too.
I love Chicago.