A Depressed Love Letter to the city of Seattle at Christmas time

Cold. Gray. Misty. Windy.

Walking through the damp, cold streets of the city in which I love.
Christmas lights in the trees that line the streets are sparkling,
This is Christmas time in downtown Seattle.

The busy sounds of cars traveling down Pine Street.
Some dude with a cup out asking for change for food.
I throw in a bit of green.
“God bless you, sir. Merry Christmas.”

My forced smile and I walk on by.
Hood covering my head.
Anxious, depressed, tears in my eyes.
Deep breath, Peter. Deep breath.

Billie Holiday in my headphones.
That unique voice of the blues swimming around in my head encapsulates my emotion walking down the damp, cold streets of the Emerald City.
The romantic sound of melancholy. The perfect sonic feeling of depression.

Crossing through 5th and Pine.
Post no bills those political propaganda posters plastered on the streetlights.
College girls walking south giggling about last night’s escapades.
Taxi being hailed by some dude in a trenchcoat kissing a girl way too young for him.

Walking into Westlake Center Plaza.
That red brick kissed by the rain.
People are bustling about.
Rushing through the doors of Westlake Center Mall
 trying to find that perfect material item for someone special.
Police question a homeless guy who fell asleep outside Starbucks.
A young girl asking her father when they can go see Santa.
The jingling, jangling, the tintinnabulation of the Salvation Army’s bells, bells, bells.

But yet all of this is crushing me. 
Consuming me.

It could be the season. It could be the weather. It could be the woman from Mississippi asking for directions to “that Spaced Needle.”
This sexy, unsettling bouillabaisse of good and bad, rich and poor, the city dwellers, suburb visitors and out-of-town tourists.

It’s the ying and yang of my city. The Emerald City.
The city in which I call home.

In a city of 685,000 people. 
Christmas shoppers, policemen, homeless people, college girls, confused tourists, children experiencing the wide-eyed wonder of the season, and lovers alike.

And then there’s me.

Walking through the damp, cold streets of downtown Seattle.
Hood covering my head.
Still in love with the city in which I call home.
Billie Holiday in my headphones.
Anxious, depressed, tears in my eyes.

But I’m crazy. Crazy in love. Crazy in love with you.

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