Shall we ever find that lovely land of Might-Have-Been

I loathe this city, and it's festering streets of noise. Toronto is slowly destroying my will to live. It's the location of my residence, a concrete monstrosity fit only for demolition. It's halls are filled with the noisy and the eager, and the arrogant and the forward and the vain, making their usual uproar. they drink to excess and stumble through the corridors shouting and ranting their drunken pleasures. The disease is not the residence, no, this is but a symptom of the disease that is Toronto. The impartial, uncaring nature of this city is reflected in the detached nature of the residence. Cold, heartless concrete, bored and useless staff, a total failure to provide anything for it's inhabitants. A hateful place.