Dear Mecca,
You’re beautiful. I love looking out over your construction paper mountains and sandy desert landscape contemplating the next step and often wondering what the baby burning factory actually burns. I don’t know if I will find a place more peaceful, and I’m not sure that I want to. I enjoyed our time together and I appreciate all that you taught me about life, love and the pursuit of happiness. It was here that I learned that what is important to me in my life isn’t money or status but the adventures I go on and the friendships I make a long the way. It was here that I realized that love is less about finding someone to spend the rest of your life with and more about cherishing your friends, your family and yourself. It was in you I realized that happiness isn’t something you buy it’s something you find within yourself, and sometimes within others; within the simplicity of coloring a picture for a seven year-old friend. Thank you, Mecca for dispelling stereotypes, for helping me to overcome fears, and for allowing me to realize my next step.
I want to say that I will come back to see you again, but I find that to be unlikely. I hope to visit you. I hope to be able to show people your beauty, but at the same time I don’t want anyone to come in and try and change you. I don’t think that you need to be updated or fixed. I think in a lot of ways you’re perfect the way you are. Which leads me to possibly the most important thing that I learned from you: that sometimes it is more rewarding to appreciate things, and people the way they are then to try and change them into something else. I will forever remember our time together. I will remember your cool desert nights, and that time I stood on a roof without fear. Thanks.
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