LOS ANGELES

Ohhh you. YOU. You are a pastel hued, glossy and grubby misunderstood fiery playground. You are a beautiful lemon tree disguised as a slutty palm tree that won’t take its cop shades off. You are wearing dumb shoes and slipped on some names you dropped but a yoga ball broke your fall from grace. YOU. 
YOU CRAZY. You and your ripe avocados, Micheladas, sense of humor, blue skies, tacos, awkward murals, endless barbecues, mismatched houses, feral cats, goofy lizards, accessorized dogs, neighborhood gangs, lazy days, bright nights, swimming pools, stars, dreams, perpetual sunshine, fake lips, fake tits, fake grass, real burritos, real stories, real characters, helicopters, and endless traffic jams. You have the windows open, music blasting, and wind blowing through your hair. You know all the words but have no idea what month or what day it is. You don’t care. You are Mars pretending to be Venus; the apocalypse disguised as a nervous Chihuahua. You are such a goofball, Los Angeles. How can you be so ridiculous and so charming? You are a dreamer and a punchline and an idiot but I love you. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. You were my muse! My escape! My guilty pleasure! My wonderland! I’ve had one of the most inspiring, productive, and entertaining times of my life here and I’m going to miss defending you to all the haters. 
Goodbye you haunted city of angels and demons. It's been a ride.
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