A Break-Up Letter to the Love of My Life

26 Sep

Well, I can’t say this is an easy letter for me to write. It’s very hard to defy almost 7 years of blinding infatuation. To go against one of the strongest feelings I have ever experienced. To truly open my eyes & point out all the flaws in something that has, for so long, exuded only pure perfection. But I realized that even the greatest loves have their downsides…especially when they are ruining your chances with someone new. 

So sorry, Paris, but I’m breaking up with you.

Remember when we first met? I was 16 years old, gawky in mismatched patterns. I was just looking for a chance to get away. You took me by surprise. Sure, I expected the crepes dripping with warm Nutella & practicing my 2nd tongue to order them. But I never expected you seeping into my pores. It was love at first sight. You boasted your best tourist attractions, things I had only ever seen in stale history book pages. You brought it to life. 11 days was much to short. A 2 hour train for a 2 day stay, but my thoughts were somewhere else. You ruined London for me. You always were the toughest act to follow.Image 

So tough, in fact, that I you made it so that I never wanted to love anyone else again. I counted down the days until we could be reunited. Until I could admire your beauty, & bask in your culture. Fast-forward to study abroad & my mind was already made up. They all told me this was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I could go anywhere. But you clouded my judgement. You beckoned me back home. There was no one else. All I wanted was you.

So I traveled across the Atlantic back into your arms. Once again overwhelmed by your perfection, by your grace & astounding beauty. & Everything was flawless…at first. But then we got past our honeymoon stage & Paris, I saw a different side of you. One that made me feel afraid, that made me feel like I didn’t belong. Constant metro glares & side walk stares, & even physical violation. Do men always treat women like that? Like we’re some object that can be ‘accidentally’ fondled on a crowded street. I thought you were supposed to be romantic. 

But then you caught yourself. You showed me all the things I had always dreamed of. Aside from your food & your culture, you showed me what I had been missing. Things like late night strolls hand-in-hand & park bench PDA are best with unwavering passion. Passion I had never experienced with anyone, anywhere else before. You certainly lived up to your reputation, Paris. You were my city & I was so deeply in love.  


But like any lovers, we had our issues. As much as I tried, no matter how much black I wore or how perfect I spoke your language–I was never quite good enough for you. You changed me. I first flew over so wide-eyed & hopeful, smiling all the time. But with only 5 months by your side & I became almost as cold as you. I had to be. You told me to watch my step around your streets. Because if my hair didn’t give me away, my accent certainly would. I was paranoid. Now approaching strangers on the street were met with icy eyes & I walked with keys between my fingers late at night. I was your city girl now. & I hate to admit it because I loved you so much, but I was so happy to finally fly back home. I missed the optimism in my life. 

After a few months back home though, I dearly missed you again. I missed our late night rendez-vous on the streets & be surrounded by your beautiful aura. But I was stronger now. I had the chance after college to return to you, but I decided it was time for a change. Paris, I don’t know how to tell you this, but I’m dating someone new now. He’s beautiful too. He has great food & culture & cobblestone streets that make me feel like I’m living in another era. Sure, he’s no Paris, but Prague accepts me for who I am. He’s not pretentious & doesn’t make me feel like I have to be either. I can be myself here.



I’m sorry, Paris, but we all know you’re kind of a snob. Don’t blame me though. I have spent years & years defending you & our love. Telling all those who had awful stereotypes about you & terrible experiences within your city limits that they were wrong. Because they just didn’t get you like I did. But maybe they were right. Prague knows about you too, He has a street named after you. One that is lined with Gucci, Louis Vuitton & Dior. Stores that boast luxury & quality. Stores I can’t afford. Where men in tuxes guard the double doors, reluctantly opening them for people like me. If I even dared to enter at all. 

Paris, did you ever accept me for who I was?

I guess I was so wrapped up in our romance that I was blinded by the fact that I was turning into someone else. Because you wanted me to. Prague welcomed me with open arms. He made it possible for a girl like me, a broke post grad, to stay by his side. What could you offer me, Paris? Minuscule closets infested with rats that will cost me my life savings? Get over yourself. I tried though. I tried to work near you. But once again, you didn’t deem me worthy. Because my French isn’t flawless enough & even if it was all I can picture is snarky co-workers mimicking it. Prague hired me right away. He saw a potential in me that you never did. He’s giving me a chance to grow.

Now, I know breaking up isn’t an easy thing to do. I’m sorry it came to this. It’s just that it’s becoming unhealthy. Before all I could do was compare Prague to you. & A part of me thinks that no matter where I go, you will always be that infamous ex-lover that all future ones will automatically be compared to. But that’s not fair. Because every city is so different. You did a lot of great things for me. If it wasn’t for you, I would have never had the courage to meet Prague at all. You made me independent & fearless. I will always look back on our past with a smile. You are a part of me, forever.

In November, I’m coming back to you for a weekend. It will be our first awkward post-break up encounter & I’m a little nervous. I just know how charming you can be. I know when I see you all those old feelings will come rushing right back. The dreams that have haunted me for months will become reality. But you are a home-wrecker, Paris. So many girls fall in love with you, but how many girls do you love back? Prague is my home now, so even though I may come for a visit or two, I’m not the same girl I used to be. I have (somewhat) moved on, at least for the moment. 

I’m sure someday I will find myself back in your arms, my dear. But for right now, this is just what’s best for us.

Thank you for everything, mon amour,

Je t’aime toujours,



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