The city she is an abusive lover. At one moment you are hated. You are inadequate to the world of Wallstreet money men and women, a lazy directionless child only serving as a black hole for the finances of any institution sustaining you. In the next? Well in the next moment it will turn around to love you. It will say "you were always the only one for me," or "I know I can push you beyond the point of emotional embarrassment before the ones you care about, but I do it because I love you." This is the life of the true city dweller. Here is the one laying on the pavement, naked to the slings and arrows of a potential fortune. Because from the top of a building, you can avoid the trouble, the dirt. You may even be able to avoid the loneliness. But you'll do so at the expense of the crest: that point which makes you laugh to yourself without a joke or anyone to call you sane. You are mad in the streets. So prepare yourself. The only way to give up is to leave or die. Unfortunately you can't. The city needs you. I need you.