Dear New York, (Brooklyn specifically, TBH)
It’s difficult sometimes for me to believe we have been apart for almost three years now.
There are moments when it seems like only yesterday that I was stepping off that Jet-Blue red-eye. (Gosh, I miss you Jet-Blue.) Seems as though I was just learning to navigate your streets and your dark underground (the subway, not anything actually scary). I didn’t even have a magical phone at the time, and relished the rush of adrenaline and constant, underlying frustration of being a directionally-challenged girl without maps on her phone.
Love at first sight was something I didn’t believe in, but you made me accept it, New York.
And accept you, and all your dirty, glorious flaws. Some loves, some deep and true loves, hit you instantly. I was intoxicated with your angles, your power, your different sides, your moments of surprise, and yes, even your subway rats. I was enamored with your constant energy, felt it flowing into my veins and invigorating my heart.
I found you not to be loud, but joyous. Not dirty, but textured. Not dangerous, but welcoming. Not rude, but driven (and actually very helpful and kind, mostly.)
You were an expensive date though… that stereotype is completely accurate.
We weren’t together as long as I thought we would be. We weren’t together as long as I wanted us to be. It is hard explaining the depth of our love when I put our relationship on a calendar.
Number of days, hours, is time really a fair accounting of the intensity of feelings?
I loved you New York and I believe you loved me back. It was a powerful and life-changing love, time-frame not withstanding. Unless they have ever been swept away suddenly on the tides of intense passion, how can I expect others to understand what you meant to me? What you mean to me?
Some loves leave scars… scars not to the body but on our heart and selves and soul.
You gave me many scars, New York. Marks I wear proudly… of self-acceptance, independence, boldness, fashion appreciation, false accusations of hipster-ness, hatred of tourists, jay-walking tendencies, and just a touch of snobbery.
Sometimes love isn’t forever.
But what we had was beautiful. And very real for me.
It changed me. YOU changed me.
And I miss you. And I think I always will.