Clichéd New Yorker Sourness

Once when I was young and being a terrible little shit, my mother looked down at me and said disparagingly "I love you, but I don't always like you." This is how I feel about New York. I often chide people for making the mistake of treating this city like a living, breathing organism and the genesis of all their problems. I won't go that far, but I've been thinking about two comparable situations: Some people encourage you to look up at the stars, out into the universe, and, upon witnessing the vastness of the cosmos, you'll feel insignificant, and so will your problems. I think this might be bullshit. In New York, you can't see stars, but all you have to do is look out into the skyline at night, see all the buildings lit up, with lives going on inside them that are in no way connected to you, to find that your life is fairly irrelevant. This strikes me as negative. My problems don't disintegrate when I'm gifted with the knowledge that my life is a mere blip in the scheme of things.

What am I trying to say? I'm lonely. This enormous city with all its people, its culture, its vibrancy and aliveness makes me feel so utterly insignificant. It's a sobering feeling when you're supposed to be young and drunk on life.

Also, as an afterthought, but related to this problem: I love my friends, but I don't always like them.