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Where I live is cold, naked, and raw.
The sky is always gray, and it seems to tint everything else.
My neighborhood is abrasive.
Tar babies walk around in stolen sandals to avoid the shards of broken glass that crumple beneath every step we take.
Exchange students J-walk themselves to death.
Homeless transsexuals drunkenly pick fights with young frat-boys.
Local college sports inspire riots.
The city map calls it “West University.”
The local paper calls it “the city’s black eye.”
Yet I love it, the only way a mother could love an ugly child.
Do you know why?
Because there’s nowhere to hide here.
(Source: habitualmindcondensation, via ishootemdown)
