my dearest new york,

this probably isn’t the first letter you’ve received, from a girl who admires you. you’re probably bombarded with letters from people like me who are mesmerised by your beauty, your wonder and your elegance. how is it that a place i’ve never been to has such a grip around my heart? has its name forever upon my lips like a catchy tune? i didn’t ask for this unrequited love affair, but here we are, two souls, one broken and one who seems so sure of itself. i think that's why i love you so much, you’re everything i dream to be, you’re everything i need to be for my life to feel complete. i discovered my love for you at the delicate age of 14 and since then, my heart has paced and paced and paced and won’t seem to slow down. i want your tender embrace new york, i need it, i crave it. i have this feeling deep down that if our love affair dies, my fire will be extinguished, that spark in me will diminish and i will be left with nothing but settlement. settlement for a place i do not desire, know, or love. 

but new york, i must be honest and get this off my chest, sometimes i hate you. i hate you so much i cry and i cry and i cry. and i know this is not your doing alone, it’s your country, it's your history, it's your brutalisation of black people. that day after day, i turn on the news or look at my phone to hear a story, a story of a dead black woman, man or child killed just for being black. i love you new york, but just know you terrify me, you scare me beyond belief and know, i’m not disillusioned to the mistreatment of my fellow black brothers and sisters in england, we are nowhere near perfect, but to hear philando castile was killed in front of his wife and four year old daughter, to hear tamir rice, a twelve year old boy, was killed for holding a toy gun, to hear that eric garner was killed, but his murderer was not indicted - these stories leave a hole in my heart, a hole not even your love new york, could fill. 

my fear and love for you, new york, is at constant war, the never-ending battle keeps me up at night with unforgiving aches in both my head and my heart. it seems, new york, our love affair must be put on hold, my wish to be with you when i turn 18 is a wish that i cannot fulfill right now. but i must thank you, new york, my apologies for waiting nearly four years to do this. i feel my heart fumbling out of my chest. thank you, new york, for years you’ve inspired me, kept me going without noticing, when i was down and lacklustre i would always say to myself “all of this is for new york, i will be there soon.” and even though it will take me a little longer to be with you, to embrace you and smother you with love, i can wait for you, new york. i just hope you can wait for me too.