Illusions

So. Las Vegas. What does Las Vegas mean? A quick Wikipedia consultation yields: "The Meadows." Imagine that. I thought it'd be something raunchier.

The lights were beautiful. The buildings were majestic. The sights fantastic, the people unique, and the atmosphere unbelievable.

All in all, it was so utterly...wasteful. Despite the attractions, the towers, the hotels, the buildings, to me Las Vegas remains a meadow of wastefulness. People go there to forget - their problems, their worries, themselves. 

People go there to waste away. They forget who they are for the sake of quick pleasures, and they leave the city twice as miserable as they were before they came.

Maybe the big names and the bright lights are enough to captivate me for a quick second, but in reality Las Vegas to me is a wasteland. The casinos fill up with people who waste their time and their money, and the sidewalks crowd with tourists who want to be part of the wasteland - that teeming black hole that sucks in the vulnerable.

The sights, the sounds, and the flavors of that weekend were indeed memorable, though fleeting. What I walked away with, however, is something I deem far more valuable than anything in that city of illusions.

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Dear Friends,

I know I have kept my distance these past few years. For that I am sorry. I let myself become enraptured in a brittle romance, and I let myself believe that I was better off without you.

Thank you for once again taking me in. You are my family. Your roars of laughter are my comfort. Your embraces are my reassurance.

Bianca