los angeles

One last look.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for.”, she said. As I slowly walked away from her desk. Life is all about last looks, this one was no exception.

I imagined myself doing different things with my life. Going on different adventures, then what was happening before me. I never imagined coming back home. I never thought that failing was an option. As I always do, I picked myself up and started over. Starting over by going home until I come back to this fucking city.  I am going home to regroup then come back to this town to be somebody. Anybody then the person I was before. Not the broken person I was when I came here.

Big cities don’t take to kindly to lonely hearts. Broken people don’t always find what they are looking for. But I will be the exception. The exception to the rule.

I walked away from her office and watched the room glitter with the sunlight. The same golden color. The same sparkle from the afternoon sun. What I would give to be outside  but instead, I am saying goodbye to everything that was familiar.

Life doesn’t prepare you for goodbyes. Life doesn’t prepare you for last looks and the words that haunt you after. Instead, you move forward and hope for the best. Praying, wishing, hoping, that all of this will be a distant memory. Just another story to add in the book of life.

It’s been six years since I have been back. Six years and I still feel like like a visitor in my hometown. This doesn’t feel like home but neither did that big city. Which is why I felt the need to burn my bridges and watch them crumble behind me.

Yet, those words haunt me.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

As I make another last look through the glistening rays of the sun behind me.

One day I will. Someday soon.

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Under the big bright yellow sun.

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Spring is always the oddest of seasons. This in between season of warmth and cold air, that’s wrapped up with the rays of the sun. It always made it seem that our skin called out to the sun to shine with us so warmly. Taking away the harsh reminders of the winter months. Oh, how we flock to the sun with it’s magnificently golden rays turning every thing it touches into reds, yellows, and bright oranges. The way the wind dances through your skin and on to every tree branch. Watching the blossoms from the trees, flood the streets with rains of petals through the wind. The wind screeching like thunder from the rain. I think about that moment. How no matter how dark I dyed my hair it always radiated red undertones in the sun. How on that rooftop I spent drinking in the sun mesmerized by colors and fragrant reminders of moments trapped in the past. Out of the scrapbook of memories I always think about that moment.

Can you see it? Can you remember an instant where a season transported emotions in a memory?

How the winds changed course and how big and bright the sun was in the afternoon. I could have spent an eternity on that rooftop. Over looking the streets and watching people walking to god knows where. I loved the sun at that moment. I loved how cold the wind felt and how the warmth of the drinks changed my mood and thoughts. In that moment I felt every bit of spring. I felt the sun wrap me up in it’s afternoon rays of sunshine glory. I wish I still had those photographs. Photographs of springs spent careless in the sun and believing at that moment, everything was happening for me. Even the photograph wouldn’t show how much I loved that moment. How much I loved that rooftop and looking back how much I loved that fucking city.

Everything.

Under the big bright yellow sun.

City of Angels.

I’ve never been good with letting go.

The whole nostalgia of the past to let go in the present. Things weren’t always so bad and miserable. Sometimes they were pretty great. Dreams fade and you’re left with the dust of a harsh reality. Maybe I just like to make believe that everything was once perfect. Just go back to the 4 year old that put her hands in Marilyn Monroe’s handprints, dreaming that one day that would be her reality. The flashing lights never stop shining brightly when you’re a dreamer. The people of your past change and you become a different person when you’re older. Some how in your memories everyone remains the same. Just freeze framed into people that held the same dreams you did at one point. Every day was one big new beginning and every experience was a life changing event.

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L.A. had always been a huge impact of my life. It was where my Dad came to call his adolescence home. Where no matter how crazy the drive was, it was always bigger, brighter, shinier than any city I had ever been to growing up. After a while the trips became less frequent and yet I still loved it. I yearned for a city, I knew nothing about and dreamed every day to return to it. I found myself telling everyone that “one day, I am going to move there and everything will happen for me”. That’s the thing with dreams, we dream so vividly we forget to gasp for air. I didn’t know what I wanted to do, I just knew I had to be somewhere that things happened. Where people from all walks of life migrated for just one tiny beckon of hope of a new beginning. Maybe that’s what I had always wanted. A new beginning. Anything better than the 4 years of being someone I didn’t like or the 5 years after processing a lifetime of heartbreak. Somewhere inside you knew that there was a place where you can start over and everything would be okay.

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The countless times I fled to LA were always magical. Whether waiting countless hours in front a venue to see a band or sitting directly in front of the latest crush of the moment, I knew things were happening. The countless nights I toasted to dreams with my friends or the days I dreamed knowing that every moment this was my best choice. Every time I made a mistake, it didn’t matter because tomorrow was just another day to turn it all around. I loved it. I loved being surrounded by dreamers that all wanted the same dreams I did. They wanted to be better and brighter than their past, no matter how much they struggled they knew one day it would all be different. You continued dreaming and continued to have hope for a better beginning. It was just the magically mysticism of  a city that made you believe that everything was possible. That everything you dreamed of will one day come true and everything else that happened in the past was just one sick twisted memory.

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The reality of dreams is that one day reality comes crashing down. One day the dreams you held so closely eventually disappear when you wake up. Maybe LA will always be my Neverland, where I will forever be stuck in the mistakes of my youth. We were all just lost boys and girls looking for a way to keep the dreams of our youth alive. While I have seen my life change drastically through the years, its always that memory of being in love with a city so magical that I’ve never forgotten. The only city that I’ve ever wanted to run away to, that helped me grow up in ways I never understood at the time.

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Its wrong to say I don’t miss it. Every night I catch myself missing it more than usual. I know in my heart that reality makes for a challenging adulthood and eventually our childish ways have to grow up. Just sometimes I can’t help but dream about the streets, the lights, and the sounds. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I still believe I’m back there. Back in my youth where everything was possible. Where dreams would one day become reality and every struggle was worth it.

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Now that I’m older my dreams have changed. Yet I find myself saying sorry that I let you down LA but sometimes we have to break before we can become whole again. I had to leave you to realize that I could love myself before I could love you again. You were the city that was there for me when I needed you most and sometimes I forget that. I will forever be grateful to you. Grateful to the city of dreamers who all wanted exactly what I once did. Your beauty, your history, and the light of hope that never once let me down.

I love you, LA. Always have, always will. ❤