City

I'm trying very hard to withhold judgment on living in the city. But I don't like it. The only upside is convenience, and that's not much, all things considered. And there's not much you can do at night- either drink and spend a lot of money, or stay at home. Or a friend's place, which is nice. But I've been trying to figure out what's really been bothering me, and I think I found it. Anonymity. Some people go to the city to be unknown and easily forgotten. This is a certain kind of freedom, I suppose. But it's anonymity of the wrong sort, I think. It's anonymous as in no one says hello or if they do, you wonder what they want. It's not the emotional release anonymity which you can find in a car alone, loud singing, or crying, or thinking undisturbed thoughts. Not anonymity of the woods alone, a quiet place to sing loudly (this is mandatory, I think) or read or wander or sit not to be found. Not the alone time of a room that's your own, a book, a mug, chocolate secret from the drawer, a cat perhaps. Or it's worse, perhaps, to be not-anonymous: a face in the crowd that people notice. And people notice, here in the city. Today, walking to work, I overheard seven men comment on my appearance. I walk eight blocks to work. I didn't wear anything abnormal or provocative today. Or yesterday, even more comments (all from men) on my way home, including a yelling man, shouting nonsense and coming at me closer than I was expecting before he walked away. Nice ones, sometimes (the man in the park who ran to catch up with me to tell me I looked cute and then walked away) but eyes still unsolicited over-appreciative always the men staring. Maybe because I'm anonymous or they're anonymous it seems okay? They don't know me, so I am meat to them, perhaps. Or they won't see me, so they might as well jump. I don't like the city. I'm too visible here. And too alone.