do the work

LA isnt as sad as i remember it.

walking the streets at night, stumbling against brick walls, fibers of sweaters getting caught on rusted lamp posts, jumping off curbs, avoiding strange pools of water leftover from last weeks rain.

it wouldnt be LA if there werent rivers of water full of unknown debris, she says, the santa monica pier in the distance, hair in her eyes, sun too bright, too high above us for it to be any sort of golden hour. whats wrong buddy, she asks, arm around my waist and mine around her shoulders. i cant put it into words, i tell her, i dont know, i say, and its one of those things you cant put your finger on, mercury under fingertip, it keeps slipping away.

that last time in LA we were all still drinking and we went out to a warehouse party and watched the sun come up and drove drunk and rode the freeways and skylines and ate tacos and dressed too tight, too black and swore a lot and so some things are still the same, at least, not everything has changed. t and j and i had drove down in the truck, smoking cigarettes and stayed at some boys house behind a strip club on sunset and i see things sometimes, now, that i remember from that trip, that house in the hills we had gone to and laid in a treehouse in the sun, all of us together, our arms resting against one another, quiet, happy. it was the first time i fell in love with LA. i had been sad then, in my life, and LA had made me happy, i was looking for something and it happened, i remember going back to the city and things feeling different, brighter.

but its just me now. i have that lonely feeling i cant shake, but that only i can change. i dont want to get lost here, without my sister or anyone to pull me back up. i came here for a reason but its becoming less and less clear what that was. i thought i was following my heart but i should know better than that by now.

in the mirror now, above the sink, i look at my face, but try not to for too long, there are things i dont recognize and dont remember moving, happening, something has settled above my brow, a finality, its almost as if i have resigned that this is my life. i have stopped struggling, i have stopped fighting, that part of me, that part that felt fiery, is fading.

dont get me wrong, there are more magical days here than not. but not even santa monica, venice or the pacific ocean yesterday could cool me. not even the water or the air, that smell that i love could make me feel better. yoga helped, good food helps, laughing with mia was great, and the thought of you, out there, making beautiful things makes me feel connected somehow, keeps me productive but somethings gotta change around here. theres got to be more to it than early summer and tea and cigarettes. theres got to be more here, i keep thinking, we've got to push harder, get more serious, be more bold.

and by we, i mean, me.

i once said LA was a sad place, and i didnt mean it. i was just a sad girl, and every city has its dark side, every grey day has its comfort in covers. i can be brighter than this place, i can work harder than i have before. i can make this city mine. i have all the right tools.