Dear Utica,
My heart is breaking. Actually, I think it is over, broken, now. The honeymoon is over. I’ve discovered what you’ve been hiding, all while pretending that you were being open, nothing to hide.
How can I express the level of betrayal? I was so naive. My hopes and ambitions for your great potential began to wither and die like grass between concrete cracks in a dry spell … Now I just feel disgusted, alone, trying to find the gems of goodness. A flicker here or there, I go to see what it is, but it is just a fleck of micah in the sidewalk. Nothing to see once up close.
Now I know why people leave, why they run. I wonder if it really is better in other places, or if the ‘real world’ is full of sh*t like you are.
But I am still here. Maybe I have a morbid need to see this place through to its tragicomic end. The comedy is running thin however. I guess the joke was on me.
When I see through the veneer of lies … I don’t want to look. I want to deny, but it’s compelling, and on some level it all begins to make sense.
The people and places I put my faith in … should I keep trying? Or just look away?
Utica, I’ve lost my sense of humor.
Utica, you broke my heart.
Utica, where everything just spins around, around, around in slow motion. A sad carnival ride …
Utica, where the sun only shines 90 days a year. Where a hundred languages are spoken. Where the brewery keeps the AA meetings full every day. Where cops are killed and resurrected, over and over. Where fruit trees hide out in public parks. Where the youth stand around and wonder ‘where did the time go?’ Where everyone is an artist of something.
Utica, I love/hate you.
-Aletha
new world dawn 