I Don't Hate Charlotte

In fact, I think I've begun to even like the city after leaving about 16 months ago. And I feel like all of this is a very big step. It's a huge statement to say I don't hate Charlotte.

For a long time I thought I didn't like Charlotte, North Carolina. It felt confining and dirty and unsafe. It did NOT feel like home even though I had the chance to get to know it very well. I didn't like the CRAZY traffic; people drove like they were trying to outrun each other all the time-a constant race. People didn't seem to smile much unless they were trying to sell you something. I thought people in the South were supposed to be so nice, they say y'all all the time and call everyone hun or sweetie.

What is very amazing about Charlotte is it's embrace of art. And what makes that up is the people, not an animate, living thing that is a city-people make a city, that is what's living. They have an American Apparel store, Anthropologie, Crate and Barrel, and of course Urban Outfitters. Then they have NoDah, I don't think I'm spelling it right. A whole village dedicated to the arts. Yes, we have the East Village, but there's something still missing from the Village. A sort of vibrancy?? We have the Des Moines Art Center.

Incomplete thoughts.

There was something else making me feel bitter, trapped, smothered, not alive. And I hate to think I wasn't being honest with myself. The honesty was there in the back of my mind and heart, but I wasn't listening. And I don't know why. Maybe because this something that needed to die was something that I worked so hard on, cried over so much, prayed over until there were no more words. If I would have really looked, I would have seen that I wasn't living. Drowning is something that always seems to define it perfectly. Slowly it happened. I kind of waded, began to sink, and then struggle but was exhausted to the point where I had to bail. In that state I saw the truth up close and bare.

This seems cheesy. Over worded.