Dear Los Angeles,
Pondering endings always gets me to thinking about the beginning. It usually starts with the ever inevitable: "Where did we go wrong?
But what we had was different. There was a deadline involved: 3 months. So instead, I've skipped the self-indulgent spite and headed straight for reminiscence.
Don't take this personally, but it's always been easier for me to say goodbye than to say hello. After moving 8 times in 18 years, I've mastered the art of the first impression, learned to revel in the thrill of jumping in, head over heels into the chaotic and exhilarating New.
Your first impression was admittedly one of the worst ever. You were not what I had expected. Everyone chided me, saying that I was lucky to be with you for the summer, that you were one of the best in The World! and that others would love to meet you in the way that I would.
