Hey Argentina, we need to talk. Sit for a bit. So, I am leaving soon. I know, the time flew. I did have a good time with you. I love you too. But…
I’m not in love with you.
I can’t give you what you deserve. Oh God, I sound like a horrible movie cliche. Don’t give me that face. You know I won’t ever forget you. You taught me so much about your culture. But I came in search for something else. I told you I needed a place to call home. Did you forget? Seriously? No, I told you California wasn’t it.
I have to confess something. One night you weren’t there, and NYC Facebooked me.
When are you coming home? he typed.
These last few quiet days have been unforgettable with you. You’ve been treating me well lately. You’ve been giving me time with friends, and solo time to reflect. And I realized I will always love you, Argentina, but we were never meant to be.
Despite our differences and me cheating with Uruguay and Chile, you still think we do, don’t you? Argentina, you taught me how to appreciate myself; but in doing so, I realized how you didn’t appreciate me and I didn’t appreciate you. We disagreed on so many things! I confess there was a point when I was with Chile, that I consider not returning. But then, I started thinking of all the good times you gave me:
Dancing in the rain, eating cupcakes, learning how to make empanandas, museum trips, introducing me to wonderful people, great classes, always putting a smile on my face at my internship, Sunday walks, and I won’t ever forget making mac’n’cheese in complete darkness during a storm with the girls I babysit, and you.
But, I miss NYC way more than I had expected. I never stopped loving him. The break was stupid.
Last week, an old sweet man, responding to my one word(!), told me, “You aren’t from here. You’re Mexican. Wait. You’re Mexican-American. From L.A.” Though he was freakishly spot-on, without thinking, I corrected him and said, “I belong to NYC.” I do. I’m sorry.
They say that home is where the heart is; the problem is I lost my heart a long time ago to NYC.
Please don’t argue. Listen for once. I’m heading to Peru for all of Winter Break and a few days with Mexico before NYC. I’ll try to not bring as much baggage into those flings, as I did with you, Argentina. You didn’t deserve that.
I have to go now dear.
Back to you in the future? No.
Yes, I did love you.
I’ll always love you.
But…
It’s not you. It’s me.
(Photo: These are the last two lines of my friend Gael’s book of break-up poems, Vos&Yo. They were my absolute favorite. Translation: It’s not that I don’t have anything left. It’s that everything left are things I don’t love. I thought them appropriate for how I feel about Argentina.)