Day 129: Goodbye, Brooklyn.

Goodbye, brownstones.

Goodbye, large anonymous brick buildings.

Goodbye to the second place I ever considered “home”.

Goodbye, first place I ever shared with a significant other.

Goodbye, Freddy’s, the only bar that I actually liked.

Goodbye, Alamo Drafthouse, and always having to sit as far to the right of the screen as possible.

Goodbye, Barclays Center. Your views totally suck, but I’m sure I’ll come down for NXT sometime.

Goodbye, Q to R transfer at Dekalb Ave that matched up half of the time and made me wait no less than 17 minutes other times.

Goodbye, C train. We may have been separated already, but I’ll always miss how cozy and empty you always were.

Goodbye, 8 stairs that felt like 1,000 after getting released from the hospital.

Goodbye to never being able to find a parking spot.

Goodbye to the place we got engaged.

Goodbye to the friends we’re leaving behind. Even though you’re not far, the G train is a pain in the ass.

Goodbye, guy that constantly steals packages.

Goodbye, insulated windows that block so much sound.

Goodbye, upstairs neighbors that constantly scream at each other.

Goodbye, weekly walks across the Manhattan Bridge and their many breathtaking views.

Goodbye, view of absolutely nothing out the window.

Goodbye, Aqueduct Racetrack. Oh wait, you’re in Queens. Cool.

Goodbye door buzzer that could only be figured out by 2 restaurant delivery people.

Goodbye to the few restaurants that were actually good and conveniently located.

Goodbye, nonexistent kitchen.

Goodbye, dog shit on the sidewalk.

Goodbye to the place I put on my wedding dress to marry the love of my life.

Goodbye, Prospect Park, where I married my soulmate.

Goodbye 650 square feet that I didn’t leave a single time for the first 4 months of a global pandemic out of fear of not being able to finish chemo on time.

Goodbye, Williamsburg and Bushwick, two neighborhoods that I’m definitely too old to be in but get drunk in them anyway.

Goodbye, bodega that almost always had peach Arizona tea, that is also definitely a front for something questionable.

Goodbye, Bodega that definitely bought and sold my stolen cell phone.

Goodbye, Kings Theatre.

Goodbye, WNYC Transmitter Park and all of the brown bags I drank out of there.

Goodbye woman that yells at me outside the subway station every day.

Goodbye, asshole that tried swindling me out of $20 because I “broke” his bottle of liquor after he walked straight into me.

Goodbye constant citizen alerts of people being shot, stabbed, robbed, assaulted, etc at literally any hour.

Goodbye, everyone that told me I ruined the neighborhood.

Goodbye, birthdays celebrated in A50 instead of somewhere fun during quarantine.

Goodbye, 10 years of arrested development disguised as relished youth.

Goodbye, 3 years of bugs, snugs and not enough plugs.

Sayonara, Brooklyn.

Fuck off, Brooklyn.

See ya in the funny papers.

See ya in my nightmares.

Eat a dick, BK.

Later, skater.

Thanks for being unabashedly you.

Thanks for 3 things, no thank you for everything else.

Hello, Queens.


– TeeCoZee

– & RachWynn