Dear Los Angeles,
I’ve been thinking about us every single day for four years, six months, and twenty-four days. To say the least, it’s far too much time for someone to be so consumed by agony.
We’ve been arguing about all of these “what ifs” and “what could have been” and what “should have been.”
The thoughts have ranged across the board, between hate, love, fear, sadness, future, past, and everything in between that and more. I’ve tortured myself in this way that’s so discreetly subtle. Unable to share you with those closest to me, because simply they would not understand “why.” Hiding you secretly, as someone who’s supposed to care deeply about me.
But I’ve been hypocritical. Standing behind this kind of shield that shows people I follow my advice, the appearance is that I would never let myself be that person who gets unquestionably lost in a relationship that was too seemingly difficult to leave. I have prided myself on becoming and living this mold of a person who is self aware, understanding, thoughtful, loving and never settles for anything less than what I know I deserve. Some think that this looks like confidence, and it’s not. It’s living. But we strive for these qualities. The independence, the optimism, the joy, the real confidence. Do we ever really achieve them all at once? Or do we all have this smile and energy that feels like we’ve got things under control, when in reality, we’re searching for just one.
These days, I’ve spent long nights, thoughts within thoughts of how do I? And when should I? Why can’t I? How come? And what will that be like when it’s actually over? None of us like loss, but that’s an inevitable thing, it’s just some is more severe than others. And with others, we can at least withstand the pain that comes with it. I’ve had these thoughts within thoughts about why I’ve put you in such a high place… and every single reason reminds me of how you demonstrated time after time that you did not deserve me. I don’t say that because I’m this unique person that you’ll never find anyone else like me. I know that, because even though there were a lot of times that I wasn’t great, and we may have fought a lot. I admitted to my faults and flaws every time, and I always worked on them. But you… you couldn’t do the one simple thing that I needed from you. Just one… a first, with you.
I’ve learned from heartfelt romantic comedies, and love movies that, you can’t have a bunch of “one mores” to make up or equal a lifetime, or to find closure in it. Because believe me.. I’ve bargained and begged for one. That is something you’d never give me, not even a singular chance. But I constantly overlooked what I needed, and because you made me feel pretty, and accepted, and comfortable, it lead me to believe that you were so much more than all of the things I didn’t want.
Despite your challenges, and mistakes, and despite even mine. There is no bad will between us, I just don’t have it in me anymore, because I did love you. That means, I could never hate you for what we’ve put each other through. And that still means, that I dream of a beautiful life for you, full of firsts, and one mores. A life that brings laughter, love, fulfillment, and a very long future.
As for me, the thoughts are more addictive than anything I’ve ever experienced. I don’t want to imagine my life with you in it anymore.
Turns out, you can’t find “the one” without a one.
I’ve used all my cards. I’ve said all my words. I’ve fought in the battle of “us” and I used to think that I was the one who was losing, but so contrary. You lost… beneath the ashes of our love, I was the one who stood true to myself and my heart, I gave it my all. You may have walked away feeling unscathed, but I was the one who walked ahead. You cowered in so many battles, while your strength may have been physically above me, I excelled in sharing and emotions. It has set me up to be able to open my heart again to find a love that isn’t a war.
This is my last letter to you, my dear darling Los Angeles.
Dear Los Angeles,
Let go. I
don’t want to cannot do this with you anymore.
We have nothing left to give one another. I feel only pain when you’re around. I feel only doubt and confusion, and… sadness.
I’m in a chapter of life that requires so much of my energy and time that you tell me “matters” but not enough for you to want to be a part of it. This emotionally, intoxicatingly happy and laughable, ride with you is absolutely unbearable.
The last thing I ever wanted was to imagine my life with you. That I don’t have you to laugh with… to support me, and cheer me up. But who am I kidding? You make me cry more than you make me feel good. And I know that it’s not your fault, because you don’t even realize what you’re doing… because you are not here– you are not part of me. So how could you know?
I watched a Rom-Com the other day, that was about love, and friendship. It was about growing up, and being able to accept that sometimes you have something beautiful, and magical, and that it’s okay if it ends. We grieve all types of losses, even when they’re our lovers. We bargain…
“Just one more kiss. One more hug. One more meal. One more anything with you, and maybe that would be enough to make it feel like a lifetime with you.”
I can still “imagine” a future with you… I’m always going to imagine you, until one day… I just don’t. And that might be another year, or two. It might be in five… but the more I hang on, the longer it’ll take for me to accept that you were never, ever, ever mine.
What I would give for one more day… for you to tell me that you want to hold me again, to show me love again. What I wouldn’t do just to feel you.
The only thing I want more than you, is to stop this feeling of wanting you.
See, I’ve heard of women like me. I’ve known women like me. And I have to apologize to all of them. For, I had no idea what this felt like. To go through those raw and real emotions of losing someone you fell deeply in love without, despite how wrong they were for you in every single way. And they spend years infatuated with them. Unable to let them go. It’s just that, I was a lot better at hiding it.
I want to be one of the “strong ones” that was able to say “I respect and am worth so much more than this.” and yet, I am sitting here, bawling my eyes out, texting you when I shouldn’t. Aching, because you don’t want to be with me, but you’d be okay with sleeping with me.
You were such a sweet guy when I first got to know you. You were so madly in love with some woman who treated you poorly… she had a boyfriend and you wanted her so badly. I was on the side, just trying to get you to let go of her. And how I wish I had someone on the side helping me let go of you. And so many years later, I am you. I felt so bad for you. I wanted you to be HAPPY. And still, as I sit here, my heart wrenching, and tears rolling down my face, it kills me to still want you to be happy even if that means you’re with someone absolutely stunning and magnificent.
One day, you’ll find each other. And it’ll be nothing like you’ve ever experienced before. It’ll be nothing like our sh*t show of a relationship. It will be so easy… and loving, and happy, and she will make you laugh like no one has ever made you laugh. She will support and be there for everything you need her for. She will love you, more than I ever could…
I’m trying, and I’m doing the best I can to just stop what we’re doing. It’s not good for either of us. I promise you, I am trying so hard..
Dear Los Angeles,
I hate you. You cluelessly tear me apart. Or is it so clueless… you tell me you don’t want to hurt me, but you do. You tell me I’m important to you, that I matter, and you don’t act that way or show it.
So tell me, why am I so insanely ignorant and pathetic to the entire thing. Why am I the one who’s still breaking every moment. Because I chose to put myself through it, right? Because I chose this. Yet you could have done something to prevent it too, and you let it happen.
It’s both of our faults, as it always has been. You pretend that you’re not doing anything wrong, that you’re the good guy because you “are good.” But I hate you for breaking me… over and over and over and over and over again. I hate you, for not caring enough to just f*cking give me peace.
I hate you for wanting me, and telling me we can’t be together. I hate you for never loving me and never being here for me. You are not present. You were not present with me, and I hate you for that.
I want to hate you so much that I decide to leave you. I want to hate you so much that I stop giving into your games. I want to hate you more than I loved you.
We were never going to make it. And you were never going to love me. You just loved f*cking me and having someone on the side to keep you company. You just loved having someone be at your beck and call, someone who was there when you felt like it. You tell me that I was the one who got sh*tty and that you didn’t know how to be yourself, but that was an excuse, for you to justify it. I would have never behaved that way if it wasn’t an effect of you never being there when I wanted and needed.
I had my flaws… I always admitted to them. And i always told you how much I cared, and loved you.
You’re a f*cking coward.
Dear Los Angeles,
I’ve noticed this for a while now, but you don’t really ask about me anymore. We’re trying really hard to do this “friends” thing, and despite all the other feelings surrounding it, it doesn’t feel like we’re even friends at this point..
You don’t ask how I’m doing, how work is going, how my friends are, how my family is. You don’t ask what I’ve been up to and what’s new. If I don’t feel well, you don’t follow up with me anymore… to see if I’m okay. We shoot the sh*t which is good for us, but it’s like we aren’t having meaningful conversations anymore, and that’s a big part of why I loved you.
Yesterday was an interesting day. I hadn’t talked to you in two weeks, and not because we were doing the whole “I can’t talk to you right now.” but just because I have been trying to make a point of not talking to you every single day. I’ve been trying to let you go, and I guess the last couple weeks it’s been easier to do. So I wasn’t really expecting you to reach out or text me, and as I was busy talking to someone new, you popped up… it gave me mixed feelings.
See, it’s been a while since I’ve had a crush on someone new… but I tend to sabotage anything good before I let it get anywhere because truth is, I’m still getting over you. So… you tell me you don’t want anything exclusive, and I’m hurt by that. But then it makes me want to ruin anything good I have… so I was texting you both, talking to you both, flirting with you both, and extremely torn and confused about it.
You don’t want my exclusive time nor do you deserve it, however this other guy… do I string him along? Do I keep doing this when I am still getting over you or do I be upfront and honest with him and tell him the truth, in which case it always ends the same… he will go away. And then another potential new person has been shut down before anything could start.
The feelings are confusing for me. They’re clear in my brain because I know what I “should” do, but I also need to follow what I’m feeling. What I feel is that my heart is still broken. And while being with you again isn’t an option, it still hurts and being with someone else maybe isn’t an option for me right now either.
The solution, be with myself. Right, I should ditch the both of you and just focus on me. That’s what I have been doing. I wish it was easier than JUST simply doing that. There’s words and feelings and things to be said involved with all this.
It’s always easy to say “don’t over-think it” — if I had the ability to just do that, I wouldn’t be in the situations that I am.
Deleting your texts get easier. Not talking to you for periods of time has been easier. Not thinking of you at every minute of every day is getting easier, and I think that means letting go of you is getting easier. I hope, I really do, that this means I’m getting over you. Because I didn’t really think the time would come that I would. And if this means I am… then that makes me happy and hopeful.
I’m just tired of trying to please you… and maybe that’s actually what’s working. 🙂
Dear Los Angeles,
I can’t even can’t the number of times I’ve had to let go of you. Somehow this time feels different. It’s like… I’m finally telling myself I just can’t be friends with you. And maybe I don’t want to.
These nights I lie awake dreaming about you, and thinking about us. Where we were, what we were, who we were. I think about all the good and bad, and the messy. There were many nights I wondered if we’d make it, or if we’d ever be more than whatever it is we were.
I gave you time, all of my time and energy. I was foolish to continue believing in something for all these years, when you’d given up on me long ago. And truthfully, maybe I had given up on us somewhere along the way, I just didn’t want to admit it.
You were so beautiful in my eyes… and now I’m just tired. I would have fought for you any day, I would have chosen you, any day. And this time, THIS time that I’m hiding having gone back to you again, I’m tired. When I think about the fight for you, when I think about you, it exhausts me. Having to try so hard to watch what I’m saying to you, or figure out if we’re flirting, it’s so incredibly exhausting that I just don’t have that fight in me anymore.
Does that mean I’m moving on from you, finally?
Don’t get me wrong, so many things still remind me of you. And it makes me miss you a lot, and from time to time I still dream of the ways you’d hold me, the ways you might care for me, or even potentially have loved me. But it’s not the same… it’s tiring now.
It’s like the worth is gone…
I went back to you, AGAIN. And I let go of you, again. But I didn’t even have the energy to tell you I couldn’t do this anymore. I just… it just is. And I’m not really sure if that hurts me more, but I don’t think I have anymore in me, for you.
You’ve taken it all. I’m taking it back.
Dear Los Angeles,
I wish things were so different between us. I know that I can’t always get what I want. I’m just sorry that neither of us were better toward one another. I wish that neither of us had messed up at any point over the last few years. I 100% believe that we could have been really good for each other and good together. I think you probably knew that too at some point.
It didn’t work for many reasons… some we could have fixed, and others that just didn’t allow for there to be an us. I don’t know if trying to be friends is making this harder or worse, or what. What I do know, is that this still breaks my heart. I’m not really sure how long I’ll be able to keep it up. I can’t be with you and I can’t be without you. It’s incredibly confusing for me. I wish I could share how I properly feel, and I wish you’d share with me.
There’s so many wants. There’s so many what ifs, and what could, and what would. It still hurts me just like before in the same way, and I put myself through this. But I’m not sure I’ve felt more tired than right now… of fighting for someone or something that just isn’t.
We’ve made too many mistakes. We’ve got too much history, and yet so little. The deepest part of me knows that we’re too far gone, that there’s no coming back for us, no matter how much I wish it could be.
I don’t know if I’m supposed to be your friend. I don’t know if I’m supposed to block you, or cut you off, or leave you again. I don’t know what to do. Because as long as I hold onto you… I won’t ever move on from you. And I know that moving on from you is EXACTLY what I need.
I loved you, I did. And I believed, I truly believed that I still did… but things are different. I can feel it. And maybe… just maybe, it hurts a little bit less.
Ultimately, I wish I had the answers.
Dear Los Angeles,
I just wanted to let you know, I’m deeply exhausted of being consumed by you.
Thinking of you, dreaming of you, listening to you, and especially writing about you.
I’m tired, pal.
Dear Los Angeles,
I wish that it was enough.. to just love you.
Love isn’t enough… and it does not conquer all. But love does have the ability to make magical things happen.
You don’t let me love you, and that’s my problem for continuing to give it to someone who doesn’t want it.
I just love you.. so deeply. I want you to see that.
Dear Los Angeles,
I could probably tell you exactly why I reached out again. You had left me hanging, in wonder a while back, and it ate me up inside. I tried to figure out what it was that maybe you wanted to say to me. Figured it was a moment of weakness for you, and you just made a mistake… but I reached out, and you opened up. We both opened up. Six months later with clear heads… me with a heavy heart…
It started out so peacefully, and a calm misunderstanding. We’d both seen how passionate and blown out of proportion our reactions were, and we both were able to agree and come to some conclusions. I think we both cared about each other enough to do that now, but still, something wasn’t fitting.
The idea of us again, the idea of going back to normal and falling back into this routine that I missed and used to love so much, appealed to me. I honestly thought… maybe I would go down this road again. No matter how much I had already said I despised it, and refused to. It crossed my mind, because I loved you.
So again, I dropped everything, to be there for you. I would give up my entirety for the chance at a moment with you again. For you to hold me, kiss me, care for me, and pretend to love me. And a week after talking, after “friendship” or flirting, or whatever we’ve been doing, things seem to be settling… and for me, they’re setting at a place of discontent.
It doesn’t feel good to keep guessing with you. I remember this feeling all too well from our days together. Always wondering what you were doing, who you were talking to, always unsure of where we stood and I hated that. I didn’t believe I deserved it. And it happened again, but this time all I could do was tell myself “let go, let go, let go, let go…” I had to have a conversation with myself “This is the exact road you’ve been on over and over, sweet girl… and it will not be different this time, just like you hope it will, you will continue hoping. Things won’t change, and he won’t love you. He couldn’t love you the last four years, he won’t love you now. He’s using you. He’s playing you. You aren’t significant or important to this man. He doesn’t want you the same way. Let go. Let go. Let go.”
I’m right, but how do I do and follow what I know is right? He is never going to be “the one.” No matter how badly I dream and wish for it, it won’t be him. And I am trying to force this path that I have been down so many times, because the highs are so f*cking high, and it makes me feel so happy and good, but when the lows hit… they’re almost unbearable.
It’s only been one week. I need to stop with this attachment, with this familiarity. I need to stop with the routine with him, I need to stop giving. I look at my life and how lovely it is, and how this last six months without him has been tremendously difficult without my person… without my “comfort” but I have survived. I have been okay, I have been learning, and I’ve found joy and made room for friendships elsewhere. I have been okay… Some days are harder than others, and sometimes I am in misery wanting to talk to and text my friend, but the thing is, without it, I still survived. I still go through it. It wasn’t as smooth as I’d like for it to have gone, but I did it without him.
It’s proof that I don’t need him. It’s proof. Why do I need anything more that that. I don’t need anything more than just knowing I am okay, and I can survive without him. Despite already having known that all these years. Despite having already known I’ve never “needed” anyone to fulfill or complete me.
It’s a want, not a need.
“Sweet girl, you’ve given it your all, and it’s time you step back and give back to yourself. I know time changes, and your thoughts wonder. But keep moving on this path. You are finding fulfillment in your career and life, and it’ll make you full. I promise you, you’ll be full until your next challenge arrives. Keep calm, steady, and let yourself rise above. When you need yourself, I’ll be here.”