My last letter.

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.

With love,
Cec.

You don’t ask.

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. 🙂

With love,
Cec.

Lost Worth.

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.

With love,
Cec.

Wish.

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.

With love,
Cec.

Exhausted.

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.

With love,
Cec.

Let go.

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.”

With love,
Cec.

Doubt.

Dear Los Angeles,

When we were going about arguing about our breakup, you told me things changed between us. That I had changed and for some reason that stuck with me. Because I think you said it to defend your reasoning and to make it seem like I was in the wrong. That we were already going downhill. I don’t believe that. I think you needed to say that to justify your action. To justify the reason you really couldn’t forgive me or get past what I had done.

I think you were already halfway out the door before I ever knew it. And when I gave you just enough reason to leave, you used it. But that is all you had to say to make me wonder if maybe it was me. Had I changed? Had the reason why everything imploded been because I became someone different, someone unlikable?

You were the one person who’s never made me feel stupid. You gave me the confidence I needed and I adored you for this, but in the end, it’s like the ugly, the negative, the worst came out in us, and you for once made me feel smaller than I’ve ever felt, more stupid and doubtful than ever before, and it makes me a little bit angry.

I try to trust that I was still me. I was still honest and loving and had there been an issue, I was counting on you to say something. We knew communication was key… But I gave you my all, and I wasn’t ever perfect. I admitted to my faults, and weaknesses. I promised to always try and work on the worst parts of myself, the ones that caused issues and the ones I knew were a little rough. I loved you as much as I possibly could have. I try to remind myself, that I was good to you, and somehow I still doubt whether I really was.

I think when you’re in a relationship that has been toxic for so long, you become blind to the other person’s faults. And it’s easy to think you’re in the wrong and that they’re this truly special, damn near perfect individual for you, no matter how much you know the real truth. You convince yourself of some kind of love, to make your own justifications. You spend years comfortable with someone, you’re going to do just about everything you can to defend it.

But I know you’d never do the same for me. And that just isn’t fair. I am a cancer, and that can be a fault in it’s own. I fall hard, and fast in love, and I was committed and loyal. I made a mistake, and I’ll never deny that, I messed up. But I don’t think it’s fair to overlook where you had done the same to me in the past multiple times, and I forgave you, I let you back in, I stayed even as your friend because I loved you so deeply. I WANTED you in my life, and time is showing me how little you wanted me around. It’s slowly showing me that I just wasn’t enough.

I think loving someone is wanting happiness for them. No matter what. And I can say from day one, that was always my goal and want for you, but I don’t think you could ever say that about me.

There shouldn’t ever be doubt on my end, and the fact that I even feel this way at all should tell me everything. You should have loved me, and it’s okay that you didn’t, but had you known you didn’t, you should have also let go of me long before I gave you the chance to run.

There isn’t any bigger person in this scenario… there’s just the end.

With love,
Cec.

You’re all that I want.

Dear Los Angeles,

Maybe it is wallowing. And maybe from time to time that’s what humans need to do. When they lose… they need to have their moment of pity. How long is too long? How deep is too deep to be with one’s own feelings of sorrow and sympathy?

There’s a lot of questions that I don’t have answers to, and I really don’t think I’ll get them, not for a while at least. And certainly not from you.

You would always tell me how it’s normal. For me to have these ups and downs, and to feel the ways I do. It might not have been what I wanted to hear, but I guess you were right. Sometimes I just need to hear that it’s going to be okay… and you did that for me. You reassured me that it would all be okay.

There are countless times I’ve had to hunt down your phone number after having deleted every bit of you. And I pull it up in a text, all written up, at my fingertips to send… and I fight with myself. My heart aches for you, and my brain knows how wrong it is. It knows that you could never fulfill what I’m searching for. It knows you’ll reject me over and over, maybe not even respond like the last time. It knows so very clearly that you and I will never be again. But it dreams… it just fantasizes about us. What we were, or could have potentially been. What could have… maybe what even was, if there was.

The deepest, and purest, the clearest, and most sane part of me knows that I’m going to be so beyond okay. It knows that I’ll fall in love with someone who’s so disgustingly right for, someone who’s not still married, and stuck in some mess of a life, someone who didn’t do me wrong over and over, only to shut me out when I made a mistake. Someone who will give me their time and love me. I know it.

But in this moment, right now. I want you.

I want what I cannot have. I want what I didn’t get a chance to have. I want something comfortable and familiar. I want someone who used to know me better than I knew myself, and yet how contradictory to say you knew me best, when really as I sit here thinking of you, you didn’t know me at all if you believed I wasn’t deeply sorry for the grey area mistake I had made.

You didn’t know me at all, if you believed that I didn’t love you, and that I wouldn’t have given anything or stood by you through everything.

I give you credit where credit is not due. That might not be love, but some sort of toxic infatuation, that some ignorant part of me was so utterly blind to. That’s what’s disappointing. That I let myself be who I never wanted to be, in so many more ways than just cheating on you.

I can promise I’m learning my lesson, but you have yet to learn yours, even 15 years later, you are in the same stuck place that you were…

I used to always say how from day one I just wanted you to be happy. And dear gosh, I do. I want that god damn joy for you, I want you to be married and magically happy with someone. But also, from so early on, I also felt sorry for you. I felt bad that you let these things happen to you and you let yourself get caught up in a life that wasn’t what you deserved.

For me, I know what I deserve, and I also know that I can’t continue down this road for long. I might have gotten stuck for a few years, but mine was just a few… yours was almost half of your life thus far.

Still… for now, you’re all that I want.

With love,
Cec.