Dear Ottawa, Since I now pay property taxes, I figured that maybe this time you might actually listen. I've been with you for a while now, almost ten years last time I checked, but most days you make it hard for me to love you. Sometimes I feel like you just don't care.
Don't get me wrong, we've had some pretty good times. I've met some incredible people thanks to you and I was always the first one to defend you when anyone said anything bad.
"Just be patient!" I would say. "It's better than it used to be." "Besides, if we all left, how would Ottawa ever learn and grow?"
Well, apparently, though I've sacrificed everything for you, you don't seem to need me anymore.
Really? I thought we went over all this about four years ago. You know, right around the time I was leaving school and decided I wanted to be a professional artist and you got all pissy and decided that you would cut every possible opportunity available to me? So I conceded. I loved you that much. I got a good, normal job and did good, normal things. I gave the arts second billing and you took the knife away.
But I get it. You're jealous again. I've decided that my first love is for the arts and not for you and so you want to take that away from me.
Well, good luck with that. You may succeed in penalizing me for everything I hold dear (Let's increase bus fees too, while we're at it!). This year, you might actually go that far and laugh in my face. But you know what? You're too late. I have nothing left in me to fight for. I won't drag out the old arguments (The Arts bring in money! Cities floorish with the arts!), I won't waste my breath. You've heard it before and I'm tired of saying it, so I just won't.
I will just do what I should have done a long time ago; what so many others have done before me; what I always said I would never do. I will pack my bags and I will leave and I will find somewhere else that accepts me and loves me for who I am. Just watch me.
So, Ottawa, what's your call? Because I'm all in.