I’m not sure how things are done in in The Big City you’re from. I’ve never lived there. I don’t know if, in bigger cities, it’s “not that big of a deal” to ghost people after you’ve agreed to live with them and pay rent in their house. I’m not sure if, where you’re from, this kind of thing doesn’t happen all the time. Maybe you said to yourself, “I’ll never see these people again, it’s okay if I don’t respond to multiple texts and calls after I assured them that I would pay first, last and deposit in the midst of a global pandemic.” I’m unsure of how things are done elsewhere, because I’ve never lived an adult moment anywhere else.
But here’s what I do know, and this may be something you will learn: Portland is small. It’s a lot smaller than most people think. And you will run into people you didn’t think you’d ever see again. Remember how, when you interviewed to fill the room you so genuinely agreed to live in, when we bonded over our shared interest in weirdo, heavy music? Remember how you wanted to go to more shows? Well guess what, bud? I go to those shows. I live in this city. And the longer you live here, the more you run into people you thought you’d never see again. You bump into the very same people you fucked over when you thought this was a huge town.
Do you smell that, bud? That’s the smell of the bridge you torched setting a fire you NEVER thought would encapsulate the groveling hole you’ve crawled in. Stay in that hole, bud. Because the nice thing about THIS city is I won’t have to find you. I’ll see you around.