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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

Thursday, February 9, 2017

the love letter series: number three

It didn’t take long to know that this was something different. We met at the end of December. It was a spontaneous Sunday afternoon. The last time I felt this way about meeting somebody was over five years ago. That person is gone but the damage is done and I have the scars on my heart to show for it. I warned you about this, but we made jokes about an unrealistic future anyway because it all seemed to be too good to be true. I’ll remember how that Sunday afternoon felt as vividly as I remember the same feeling five years ago. 

The problem is, I bought into those jokes that we made for the first time since the damage had been done. I lit my heart and my mind on fire and let them run wild with the idea of possibility. We had similar interests and paths, a path that no other person has been able to relate to. You intrigued me with your creative success and intellect, your degenerate past and the marks on your body to tell the story of each friend who didn’t make it like you did, your passion for feminism and good hip-hop. You had multiple layers and stories and I wanted to know every single one of them.

And it was all a lie.
But still, all I want to do is kiss you again. 



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

Monday, February 6, 2017

the love letter series: number two

I was broken yet excited - recently single from 10 years of commitment. You saved me from my first Tinder date - you saw the whole scene play out from behind the bar. My date was clearly catfish material and I was intimidating and confident. As soon as my awkward counterpart ran to the restroom, a little small talk was established and it was history from there. My date could see it when he returned but he put up a good fight for my attention.

You were practically forbidden because you played drums in enemy territory of my so-called friends. These friends ended up being hypocrites of the same unspoken rule, but that's ok. I also thought you were beyond out of my league, but you were still interested. You were one of the smartest people I had spoken to with the ability to open up immediately. You took me to hip bars in Los Feliz and introduced me to what you said was the best margarita in the world.  You introduced me to Banks and we drove in your friend’s car because he was out of town.

Our fling was short and innocent, and you decided that I wasn’t over my ex-boyfriend because he was in one of the many Polaroid photos hanging on my refrigerator. The truth is, I wasn't over him, but I still think about you all the time too. You were the first boy to call me on the phone just to talk, you challenged me and called me out on my bullshit, and you peaked my interest enough to pull me out of my romanticized past.

To the one who got away: thank you. 



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

Friday, February 3, 2017

the love letter series: number one

To the true love of my life, you have no idea how much I adore you. I never knew that I could love something so much. I can’t imagine how your mother and father must feel about you. I never thought about being a mother until I met you, and now I want to be a mother because of you. 

You are bright and beautiful and full of so much personality. You’re curious and nosey like your great-grandmother. It would have made her life to meet you, but we all think some part of her has carried over through you. It makes missing her a little less painful. You’re crazy about your Papa. Your Papa is crazy about you, too. He never got to experience life with a son and I see how much joy a little boy brings him. As much as I tried to fill that void, you’ve already done the job better. You are the reason I moved back out east. You are the reason I get to see my family almost monthly. If anything happens out here in New York, if I meet my husband or win the lottery, it’s all because you exist and that’s pretty cool.

I’ve never wanted to pinch cheeks or kiss the living shit out of something so much. I’ve never wanted to protect something so badly. I secretly feel a sense of pride when somebody mistakes me as your mother because you are truly so perfect. I not so secretly feel the deepest sense of pride to be related to your mother. You have helped us form a deeper bond and a better friendship and I owe you eternally for just that.

On Christmas of 2015 I felt you kick through your mother’s belly and realized that you were going to be the greatest thing to ever happen to my family. One year ago (from almost this very moment) I received a FaceTime from a baby that was about 30 minutes old to meet his Auntie for the very first time. I sobbed in the office for a little too long, then left work early in the pouring rain and drove through the night from New York to Ohio to finally meet you. I helped change your second diaper ever and followed your mom and dad as they drove you home. I realized how delicate you were. I made sure the first song you ever heard was Tupac (it was Ambitionz Az A Ridah). I put goofy Snapchat filters on your adorable face. I bought you pants when I was in Barcelona. We slow danced in Michigan. You fell asleep in my arms many times, but not enough times. We had a Toys R Us field trip. We had a babysitting date. And just like that… you’re one year old.

I love you, my little man. I’m so proud of your mother and father and I cannot wait to see who you become.

I hope you don’t think I’m too weird. 



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