I Miss New York

Really, like there is no other way to explain it. I miss New York. I want to go back. I'm stuck in the small town I was born and raised in, and the only thing that keeps me from taking my car and driving away as fast as I can are the people I have missed and need to catch up with.
I miss everything being around me. I miss being able to go out for sushi or pick up french cheese at the grocery store. I miss walking along the river at night. I miss going through the parks with my camera. I miss the skyscrapers and the village and the subway and the over-priced shops and the lack of walmarts.
I hate this town. It's full of my relations, friends of my relations, and creepy people I don't want to deal with. Here I am someone's daughter, someone's sister, someone's granddaughter, someone's cousin...I am not an individual here. My father's family has lived here since before this town was founded. It was built around their old store. It was designed by one of them. This place has a mold made by each and every one of my descendants, who made small alterations on their own, that I don't fit into at all. I am tired of all these preppy, southern bigots who call think themselves higher than the rest of humanity because of who they are. Just because you were born in this Virginia town does not give you the right to call my Jamaican-born Irish mother a "fucking foreign slut" in front of me. You can't say how glad you are to not see her face when you used to say I look just like her. You can't keep me from talking back anymore. You can't keep me here. You will never read this.
I hate it here. I will leave this town and never come back.