I miss you.

Dear Los Angeles,

I’m just here to tell you that I miss you.

I miss the music we’d connect with, the songs you’d share with me with such excitement. You loved music so much and when you’d share with me it’d make me smile.

I miss the random goofy text messages you’d send me. The unrelated joke, or the silly thing that happened at work. I miss the little videos and photos you’d send me. You made me laugh every single day, and that’s because you liked making people laugh. I miss how much I laughed with you.

I miss how I could tell you everything. How I didn’t always have to be happy, and when I was low or homesick, you were there. I miss how you’d give me hugs and hold my hand. How you could crack a joke and it would cheer me up.

I miss how unapologetically inappropriate we could be. Given, I wasn’t the only one you were able to be that way with, but you were my only one I could be that way with.

I miss how you would flirt with me, and ask about my day. I miss how you would remember little things that I didn’t expect. I miss the little things. They meant the world to me, even if you didn’t realize it.

I miss talking to you every single day.

I miss seeing you with the girls. I miss hearing how happy they made you.

I miss knowing about your job, your work, your passions.

I miss hearing about what made movies terrible and what made them so cinematically beautiful.

I miss when you’d tell me I was pretty.

I miss when you used to tell me I was enough.

I miss how you knew me better than i knew myself.

I miss how we could say we’d made it even after four years, how we’d take pride in that something “special” between us.

I miss being someone you were once so close with and shared personal things with.

I miss your many talents and interests. From hockey, to softball, to videography, photography, BJJ, lifting, children, food, movies, feminism, comedy, and everything inbetween.

I miss how you were happy… with or without me.

I miss your sweet brown eyes, and your wild hair. I miss your little stache’ and the tattoos on your arms. I miss the caps you’d wear. And the way you taught me about sports. I miss the smirk on your face.

I miss hearing about your mom and the life you’ve gone through. I miss hearing about your friends.

I miss hearing about your favorites.

I miss our nicknames and inside jokes.

I miss our song.

I miss the way you used to make me feel without having to be here.

I miss how I used to be able to count on you.

I miss how I knew you’d always be there.

I miss when you didn’t make me cry.

I miss when you cared enough about me to always say good morning and tell me goodnight. To check in on me on days that were important.

I miss the days when you were the one who made the mistakes and I forgve you for them.

I miss the days I believed you had feelings for me.

I miss your voice.

I miss when I had you.

I miss when my heart wasn’t broken.

I miss when I loved you happily.

I miss the last four years, that I would never trade, but fuck me…. sometimes I wonder if they were worth it.

I miss when I didn’t cry all the time and when my heart didn’t hurt. I miss when I wasn’t taking insane amounts of benadryl and trying to find benzos from randos.

I miss the days I wasn’t depressed.

I miss when I knew who I was.

I miss the strong woman I was before you tore me down.

I miss not being reliant on a man and knowing I was me without anyone.

I miss when I was better.

I miss you.

With love,
Cec.