Homesick For A Place That Doesn't Exist

I don't think about Los Angeles much anymore.

And when I do, it's not the city I physically experienced, but rather the romanticized one I pieced together through years of watching movies, TV shows, and listening to music about the beautiful, yet fragile place where the sun always shines.

You unpredictably come to mind when I hear a song- a song I never even heard while I was with you- but for some reason reminds me of our imaginary time together. They're songs full of minor chord viscera. Synthesizers and beats I danced to on the beach, in Hollywood, and in my car before I was ever born.

It brings me to my knees. Every absolute and artificial memory intertwines into a billow of what I no longer know is certain. I take on the emotions of character's lives I never lived. I experience flashbacks of times I never endured.

I always thought that the day I stopped thinking about Los Angeles would be a sad day.

However, instead of descending in one fell swoop, the omission happened over a period of time, right underneath my nose- and I never even noticed it.

The trace of your body is no longer familiar on my fingertips. Friends mention new restaurants and lounges that I've never heard of. The drive through Hollywood heading west towards the ocean has become blurry; the view from Mulholland at night a fog.

Sometimes when I'm laying in bed, I think of the nights I listened to your murmur down below. I try to hear your voice. I look for your emanating glow that once carried me off into a place where I dreamed that you and I could make it work, but I can't find you. You have left me just like how I left you.

I left you.

I left you and as I watched you grow smaller and smaller in my rear view mirror I cried for all the dreams I lost and all the new ones I was cultivating. I wanted to hold onto the feeling I knew when I first met you- an idealism that I'm never to experience again. I didn't want to let go of the little girl who thought that the world was good and pure. That people would never try to hurt one another.

That my heart would never be broken.

However, with each mile that I drove further away from you, I became the person I was supposed to be.

I miss you, Los Angeles. I miss my idea of you. Our relationship is now much better since I returned to being the longer of something that is not real.


Are you homesick for a place that doesn't exist? Do you romanticize periods of time in your life?