Dawn always breaks. No matter how dark the night, dawn always breaks. We have learned this lesson again and again and again, you and I. The fluidity of life, its ups and downs, its tragedies and joys, its refusal to be defined by any single event continues to surprise. Though it should not, not really. Not after all that we have seen.
It will never get better. I will never get through this. I will never feel this way again. Nothing will ever be the same. How many times have these incessant thoughts run through our minds? Yet, every time, every single time, dawn breaks. Like it always does.
We are so resilient, you and I. So willing to get back up. To fight. To start again. Like that goofy plastic blow up clown that refuses to stay down, no matter how hard he gets hit.
I knew we belonged together. Meant for each other, in some odd way. How alike we are. Peas in a pod, really. I knew I loved you before we had even met.
What we’ve been through. What we’ve borne witness to. The things that may have ripped others apart, have only brought us closer.
And while there are times when I think that our relationship has run its course. When I say to myself that this or that has truly been the last straw. That there has to be a better way. An easier way. I look out at you and I remember.
I remember the circumstances under which we met. Me running away from something. You opening up your arms to welcome me so that I could start again. Thirteen years ago, was it?
I remember the ambitions I had and how you helped me reach them.
I remember my stark, naked lust for freedom and independence and how you never, ever stood in my way.
And I remember my longing for something more meaningful, more true, and how you helped me find it.
And for this, for all that you have done, for all that you have meant, you will always be my greatest, most complicated and most enduring love.
I love you New York.