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Monday, February 20, 2017

the love letter series: number six

The Thursday evening before my first festival, I was feeling myself from the whiskey gingers I got from the open bar. There was so much going on - music, friends, drinks – but you caught my attention. My friend who works in film (and usually runs into somebody everywhere we go) was talking to you, about 20 feet from our group. I asked my friends who you were, and all the girls shrugged… so I went for it.

“Hi Tim, who’s your friend?” (turns head to look at you) “Hi, you’re really good looking.”

I won’t go into specifics with how the rest of the conversation went, but I was slightly humiliated because I should have known who you were. After all, Tim is one of your biggest fans to ever exist; he even took me to one of your shows about 6 months before this coincidental leap of faith. Maybe you were surprised that I had no idea who you were, maybe you actually thought I was charming. Either way, it worked. After fans distracted you, you returned and we started chatting again. I was surprised myself when you asked for my number. Flirtatious text messages throughout the festival, a brief run-in during Alt-J, a birthday FaceTime, and months of selfies, questions, and answers later, things went silent.

Timing and distance are two things that inevitably put out the most ferocious fires, and neither were in our favor. After all, you had a booming career, a life in New York when I was in LA, and of course, the old flame that finally caught your attention and your heart.

You promised to take me on a date, I imagined finally kissing you. Instead, the next time we saw each other, we exchanged awkward side hugs and let go of a history that only existed in my mind. You never told me directly what had happened, but I didn’t need an answer. That fact that somebody with your level of intellect, success, and maturity was interested in me made me feel like I was more than enough for anybody in the world, and I’ll never forget that.



The Love Letter Series is a personal tribute to people that hold a little piece of my heart. These letters aren't necessarily about love; they're dedicated to long relationships, short encounters, romanticized memories, heartbreaking losses, longing, and forgiveness - all without a name mentioned. Vulnerability is a feeling I've long avoided, so these letters are an intimate look inside my highly guarded heart. 




Photo by Alyssa Timoteo

Friday, February 17, 2017

the love letter series: number five

I may be hours away from you,
We may have our different political views,
I may not have any money in savings,
I might have just started to use my electric toothbrush,
We may not talk as much as mom and I do,
I might have disappointed you many times,
We may not go on weekly lunch dates anymore,
I know I worried you when I followed a boy out to California,
I may not be as responsible as you'd like...

BUT

I'm always going to be your little girl. 




The Love Letter Series is a personal tribute to people that hold a little piece of my heart. These letters aren't necessarily about love; they're dedicated to long relationships, short encounters, romanticized memories, heartbreaking losses, longing, and forgiveness - all without a name mentioned. Vulnerability is a feeling I've long avoided, so these letters are an intimate look inside my highly guarded heart. 




Photos by Alyssa Timoteo

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

the love letter series: number four

One year for Valentine’s Day we decided to treat ourselves. We got a hotel room in Century City and ate nacho cheese Doritos and drank champagne in our underwear. We abandoned our garage and air mattress in Venice for clean sheets and a king bed and a shower without spiders. We listened to your new mixes in your old car and we laughed like kids without a thought of our nonexistent future.

This Valentine’s Day, I’m treating us to forgiveness. I forgive you for selling all my furniture on Craigslist then trying to abandon me 3 days later - when I had already quit my job and booked a one-way plane ticket to move with you across the country. I forgive you for staying out all night with your toxic friends abusing your body and our relationship and never standing up for me. I forgive you for blaming me for the downfall of your career. I forgive you for using me to have a roof over your head and for validation because your insecurities would have eaten you alive without me. I forgive you for exploiting our relationship through heartbreaking lyrics when I never got to explain my side of the story in a public setting. I forgive you for lying about your secret life in the desert – while you claimed to be in the depths of creation, you were doing many, many other things. I know what all of those things are now - believe me. I forgive you talking down to me, for being emotionally abusive, and for manipulating me to become dependent on you because it made you feel good. I forgive you for ditching me in random cities to talk to other girls because you knew I’d be there no matter what. I forgive you dragging me along for years because you didn’t have enough courage to end things when you wanted freedom. I forgive you for sabotaging our chance at a friendship for a 19 year-old set of tits that smoked cigarettes. I forgive you for still thinking about me and for looking me up on social media because you are always going to think about me and how I was the best thing that had ever happened to you. 

I forgive you because love was enough for me.
I forgive you because I’ve finally moved on.






Photos by Alyssa Timoteo