And it’s a truth that makes the city so distinct. Vegas isn't trying to be anything other than what it is. For all of its aggressive artifice, it is painfully, unapologetically honest in its fakeness. It's as red, raw, and sore as a city can get. Vegas is completely fucked up and it knows it. Its self-awareness, for better or worse, is accomplished by the fact that it doesn't try to hide anything, because it doesn't have to. And you're going to celebrate it for exactly that reason. Vegas can be stiflingly superficial, sure. But it can also be surprisingly kind.
I was told by every one of my Vegas friends that these revelations would happen, and they will keep happening until I either leave, or begrudgingly accept lifer status.
But for all of the horrible humans I've encountered, I've also encountered some of the very best: people who welcomed me into their lives, homes, and hearts immediately upon meeting me. People who instantly became my friends, my true family in this godforsaken desert. People who are wonderfully crazy, smart, funny, gracious, generous, understanding, kind, and did I mention crazy? People who have made me feel more loved and appreciated within a matter of months of knowing me than most friends I have known for years. People who have made me want to stay, even when everything else about the place makes me want to leave, because we're all in this together. Beholden to this ugly, beautiful, silly, fucked-up city that we all hate to love and love to hate.