A (Bittersweet) Love Letter to San Francisco

Dear San Francisco,

I’ll admit… I had my suspicions at first.
You were the mysterious type, draped in layers of fog and bad press.
They only seemed to speak of your faults like a vindictive yet effective ex.

Yet, as summer turned fall and fall fell for winter, I found myself quickly falling for you.
I began looking forward to our dinner-for-1 dates overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge and the sparkling Bay.

I tried on different hobbies so that you’d like me more.
Kickboxing, pilates, and yoga classes passed with each month.
Yet none seemed to stick as much as taking a walk in McLaren Park.
We’d get up early on Saturdays and bring books to performatively read at museums, libraries, and overpriced cafes.
We’d people-watch in farmers’ markets, Dolores, and at Giants Games.
You told me to pack layers, but the California Girl in me refused to listen.
We’d predictably end the night in a Waymo, belting out Charli XCX.

A career-obsessed city hoping to make it big in the AI Gold Rush;
I, too, was fueled only by ambition and Philz Coffee.
A city so easy on the eyes that I could ignore how nervous I felt walking home alone after a night out with you.
You weren’t afraid of hiding from who you actually were when I was only starting to figure it out for myself.
You were authentically weird… And I fucking loved that about you.

Perhaps you were so used to your exes leaving you for NYC;
Perhaps it was because I had already found someone else.
But first loves seldom last. And puppy love must grow up.
Was what we had real? Or was it all in my head?

As I sit here with my bags packed at SFO, I wonder if you’ll ever miss me.

Because I sure as hell miss you.

Until we meet again,
MISS xU