a love letter to los angeles
It doesn't feel fair to be writing this. I'm not the one leaving a life built there. but this is the end of an era. The end of the beginning. And though this change has been long awaited, talked about for years, counted down to the day -
It still hasn't set in that it's not 5,
4,
3,
2,
1 (or, 2morrow),
It's today.
So I want to say goodbye to this era the best way I know how.
We drove somewhere that first week together. I don't remember where we were going, but we were listening to music, talking and singing nonstop. I think I was going through your sad little girl playlist queuing the only songs I knew. I filmed a TikTok about how Los Angeles is a glorified suburb. I liked being next to you. I didn't know then, sitting in the passenger seat, that your car would become the setting for some of our most treasured moments. Picking the perfect playlist or album before we left the garage to start our drive on a high note. Rolling the windows down on the highway when the breeze was warm. Pointing at the minion, protector of the valley. Showing each other our favorite music, and singing at the top of our lungs to our songs. Playing Chappell for me while we drove to Malibu, and boygenius on our way back through the mountains. All of our food adventures, whether it's to the best burger in the most obscure Chinatown strip mall to the best taco trucks in Los Angeles. Kissing at stoplights. Doing a little more on the quieter roads (or busier ones). Hands on thighs, fingers intertwined. The squeals and yips and hehe's after you'd pick me up from the airport, when I was still warming up to touching you. The tears, quiet hand squeezes, and the "I'll see you soon. We're almost there"'s as we'd pull back into LAX. Anything for an excuse to be in your car with you. One of our many happy places. Driving in LA with you.
Isn't that what love's about?
Doing whatever to draw it out.
A little dark room in the valley, under the mountains full of mansions, tucked beside Ventura. A mirror hung across from the bed, a little TV on a dresser. A massive wardrobe on the other wall. A desk with a few days worth of condom wrappers on it. A very loud bed frame. I laid in that bed and tried to commit every detail to memory. That room was where I started to find myself again. Where I regained my sexuality, my confidence, and hope. It's where I remembered what love and lust and fire felt like.
It felt like I was walking into a dream when Lindsey led me into Densmore the first time. A pool. Ourdoor space. A living room that was the size of all of my New York apartments combined. Sitting down with fresh tacos in the warm February air. "Where's Sam?" "Oh he thought we should have margaritas." Your face coming into frame as you walked up to the apartment and my breath catching in my throat. I wish I remembered more. I just remember being so happy to be sitting there with you all. We went to a party on a whim that night, in this beautiful home that was overrun by men. It felt like college, and I loved it. Lindsey's room was huge and I only slept in twice. I did my glittery siren makeup in her bathroom each night. I tried to get King to warm up to me. Feeding you cheese in the kitchen. All your friends coming over to watch the Super Bowl. Then play Jackbox. Then leave us alone to watch Euphoria. And kiss. All of the breakfasts and coffee Lindsey would make me that we'd have as we worked outside. Life was slower. I loved being in you and Lindsey's life. I loved your friends. Your home. The sun. Getting an airbnb, drinking wine and tangled in a net. Jeni's and turtles. Dancing in Weho. Fucking in a bathroom. Midnight In n' Out. So much In n' Out. So much happiness.
It wasn't until over Las Vegas that I realized it was more than I thought it'd be. Laurel Hell and the pounding of my own heart In my ears as silent tears doused my cheeks, while you did the same. Together, but alone.
I wanna be emaciated,
I want to hear one song without thinking of you.
I wish I was on a spaceship,
Just me and my dog and an impossible view.
Two years later, and I came back for you. The last Los Angeles had seen of me, I was smaller, still learning how to eat again. I'd just lost my girl. Chunky gold streaks in my hair. Gem on my tooth. Lost, and not wanting to admit it. Falling for someone I knew I wasn't ready for.
Two years later, I knew I loved you, and you loved me - so we finally said it out loud. Twirling through Santa Monica, I wonder if I would've been that surprised if you had told me I'd be back five more times, before you'd join me in New York.
Surreal.
I'll miss our hot tub chats in lukewarm water. Trying whatever we can to make it seem like it was hotter than it was. Wavelength. Lunch outside, basking in the sun and smiling at each other as we escaped our computers. Steak sandwiches, grilled cheese and tomato soup, traditional bolognese, shrimp scampi, mediterranean takeout, Ralph's cookies (hehe). Passing out on the couch like clockwork. Falling asleep holding your hand. Carrying me to bed. Waking up to warm light, courtesy of Wiz. Soft green sheets holding us in our favorite position, my head on your chest, your arm around me, my leg up and primed for knuss. Two gems on your mirror, a piece of me with you always. Bent over on your sink. Looking up at you in the mirror is always how we started. It's so hard to resist you, so I don't. Visiting me in the shower, yipping if you don't come fast enough. Screaming when you startle me by peeking over. The sunlight through your curtains in the afternoon, soaking in the warmth that bathed your room. Catching your binks from behind. Riding you in your chair. Opening the window to compete with your neighbors. Our filthy little display on your mirror. All of the selfies we took in it. Before El T, Mitski, bedtime, the airport. We love to document us. I'll miss your neighborhood. All the dogs. The Two. My nail salon. All of your amazing, lovely friends and the community the two of you built. Bing Bong and all of his perfectness. Going to Quidditch practice, wobbling around on a PVC pipe, running full speed, scoring a quaffle, or a goal, or whatever. Late night drives to Salt and Straw to get the same flavor every time. Remember that time we saw that roach and went to the Paper Source and you were irresponsible? I'm going to miss the smallest things. Not the golden memories at Griffith Observatory, Art Park, or the countless Waffles, no - I'm talking about the roach across from the ice cream shop.
I will miss the view of the wisdom tree from the valley, perched on the edge of the mountain range. I will miss the warm escape I so painstakingly came to love. I will even miss flying across the country to see each other, because there was something so romantic about all the effort we'd give just to be with each other. But I suppose there's a lot more effort in moving across the country to actually start the next chapter of our life together.
When will it feel real? When you're standing in my building with all your bags? When we're unpacking in your apartment? In a month, when it finally sets in that you're not leaving?
Time is crazy and scary. Anxiety is real, so is the disbelief. But you're coming. By this time tomorrow, you'll be in my bed next to me, sleeping after your one way trip. I feel like I might burst just thinking about it. Every second brings us closer to being together, to the future we've talked about for years. It's about to be real.
I never thought I'd be grateful to Los Angeles. I never thought I'd weave such a beautiful story for myself there, with you at the center of it. A lot can happen in eight years. I wonder what the next eight will look like. What our home will look like. What our dogs' little barks will sound like. What new memories we'll have. All the places we'll go. All the new music and playlists we'll have. How our friends are doing, all the time we'll spend with our parents. The love we will create and surround ourselves with.
Fly safe, my love. It all starts today.
I'll go up to the top of our building.
And remember my dog when I see the full moon.
05.31.25. - 2:07am