It’s hard to live in the city

So just lay your head down low,
Don’t let anybody know
That its hard to live, its hard to live in the city

– Albert Hammond Jr.


I’ve currently moved back up to the big smoke, aka Auckland City, in the north island of New Zealand. The abundant job market and better weather lured me back up to the hot and humid streets of Auckland. I’m 22, alone, with a boyfriend-come-ex-boyfriend-come-boyfriend left behind (coming up in a months time).

My days have been spent dodging wide-eyed tourists, navigating the familiar streets of this metropolis that I have a vivid love-hate relationship with. My week has consisted of non-stop interviews for potential jobs, “commission-based opportunities” this, “potential growth” that. A whole language to learn in order to sell myself as the perfect, risk-free, 22 year-old employee.

All the while I wish I was growing a self-sustainable lifestyle, miles away from these energy draining experiences. Creating. Instead I am offered roles to support, to sell, to analyse, become this, embody that.

At night I am still plugged in to the city’s bloodstream. My single-glazed window informs me when it is rush hour, when someone is being mugged, when it’s time to party, time to drink, time to eat. I am the city. And I am tired already.


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