An open letter to the suburbs from a City of St. George hopeful

Dear Suburbs,

I've come to know you quite well the last year. You're not like EBR. You're different. I like that. But they still talk about you. They say all kinds of things.

"There's nothing to do out there"
"The commute is too far"
"The people are too country"

I used to listen to the noise, but I'm here today to apologize to you, suburbs. You clean, safe, quiet suburbs. I was wrong. Maybe you're not all DR Horton spec homes and strip malls, but you're not all created equal either. While I can see myself just over the parish line in up-and-coming Prairieville, I still struggle with the thought of driving through the North Baton Rouge squalor everyday to get to you, Zachary. And Livingston, even as open minded as I've become, I'm not ready to sit across from my family at Walk-on's East in their camo LSU gear. And Port Allen, just no, stop lol. No.

I need to be honest though, suburbs. You're a side piece. I need you when I'm in need, but St. George is my bottom bitch. If she passes, we're renewing our vows, we're going to counseling, and we're gonna make this shite work. Piano lessons, theater camp, French immersion...all of it.

But until then, when I'm with you, I don't even think about other cities and their structured zoning laws. When we're together, all I can think about are long highways with random neighborhoods next door to snowball stands next door to mobile home parks. Will you still be there for me if this whole thing falls apart, with your travel ball and cheer competitions in Disney?

Sometimes I think I could love you.