An Open Love Letter: Las Vegas

Strange things happen when you power up an old phone. 

Our personal archives become declassified. All once precious people, places, and things resurface simultaneously.

We are confronted with the phantoms of our past selves, stricken with grief for that which we weren’t consciously aware we’d already lost.

We are reminded of the moments in proximation to each frame. The sounds, smells, and dormant emotions defrosted; offering a sampling of our lifetime’s transient dopamine supply.

These carbon copies evoke an array of chaos: anger, embarrassment, resentment, shame, and sadness. Conversely, they also resurrect affection, compassion, curiosity, understanding, and wanderlust.

In my latest iPhone 6 scroll, I was reminded of my commanding love for the city of Las Vegas. As we all continue to mourn our last standing shreds of normalcy, my treasured memories of Sin City have been romanticized beyond compare. Patented in rose gold, I can’t draw my eyes away.

Continue reading for an equal parts literal and metaphorical ode to the city that changed me forever (on multiple occasions).

Last night, I was reminded of our time together. Images of you with your eyes shining, smile as promising as a waxing moon.

It was you that taught me there was always far more behind the curtain. You revealed an endlessly rich history; from your time rolling in the dirt, making deals under the table, to the changing of hands and Edison bulbs.

It was you that introduced me to hedonism. You gifted by placing all that glitters within a stretch of my fingertips. You indulged me in extravagance and assured me that I belonged. Tugging at my dress, you told me to stop worrying. You promised I was enough.

It was you that revealed romance wasn’t to be defined by a textbook. You laughed in the face of fine wine and subtlety and challenged me to find the to find the heartbeat in the scale of the neon lights.

It was you that explained intimacy was not synonymous with quaintness. A moment need not be meek or mild to build an everlasting love. You proved those rare moments are like a freight train; they couldn’t be stopped but a mile overdue.

It was you that fostered my lust for life. You watched me from your favorite spot; encouraging me to make new friends and shine like the light you knew I was. You only asked that I look back and blow a kiss. I preferred to settle in next to you anyway.

It was you that asked me to speak up. You told me that expectations were often limiting, and that we needn’t stop there. You celebrated our midnight pizza parties tucked inside the air conditioning equally as our excursions of the midnight variety. You never once asked me to stifle a laugh or forgo a bubble bath.

You said “everything’s here… what do you want?”And for the first time, I considered just that.

It was always you. My drop of the ocean in the middle of the desert. I’ll be back.

P.S. Click here for a playlist worthy of only your first true love!

“I love her and that’s the beginning and end of everything.”

The Great Gatsby. F. Scott Fitzgerald, 1925.

Las Vegas does The Weeknd ❣️

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