My Dearest Philadelphia,
We are over.
Sunday while you were asleep, I packed up my belongings and left. Our off and on 6 year relationship needed to come to an end. And to make things less awkward, I left as quickly and quietly as possible. I don’t think I can say “it wasn’t you it was me” because this is obviously your fault. You broke into my house. You stole my things. You shoot yourself in the face every day (literally). Your drivers are horrible. Your streets are a mess. No one respects you. You’re the ugly girl people bang because they feel bad for you. And because you’re easy. No one actually likes you, and that’s pathetic. I’m not even sure you like yourself. Old City is a lie. Center City is garbage. And South Street is the death of society. And your hipsters. My God, the hipsters in Philly are horribly annoying, self-hating assholes that bro out way too hard. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but seriously, work a God damn day in your life. The only thing you have going for you is food. But even then it’s in the form of a greased up pile of crap.
I want to say good things about you, but there is little to say. It took me 3 years to see someone happy in Philadelphia. The day the Phillies won was the best day the city has seen in years. And you ruined it by flipping cars and looting. Awesome. I know I have my issues and I plan on fixing them. I suggest you look for help too.
Maybe I’ll visit you again. Maybe I won’t. Just know that you’re awful. I’ll miss my friends, but I don’t feel like seeing you and dealing with your bullshit. So… this is why I left.
Also because I couldn’t afford to pay rent.
With little to no love…