I Used to Miss Los Angeles

I’d scroll through old photos. The palm trees, the warm glow of Santa Monica sunsets, that feeling of possibility hanging just above the smog. I thought I missed the city. The streets. The coffee shops. The grind.

But that wasn’t it.

Los Angeles wasn’t just a location. It was a season in my life ... one that started when I walked away from everything I knew. Tokyo. Comfort. Familiarity. I left it all behind in 2010 to chase a dream in Hollywood. It felt bold. Stupid. Brave. Honest.

And I did grow there. I grew up there.
I struggled. I showed up with barely anything to my name ... poor as a duck, if I’m being honest. But little by little, things started happening. I got cast to open in Universal Studios Japan, and when I returned almost three years later, it was like I never left. I picked up right where I left off ... straight back into the hustle, no questions asked.
That version of L.A. welcomed me back. No resistance.
Back to the grind. Back to belief.

But then the world changed.
2020 hit like a freight train. Lockdown. Disruption. A thousand little goodbyes. And suddenly, there was nothing left to fight for. Not in that city. Not for me.

I moved again. This time, back to Saudi. Back home ... though even that word felt complicated.

And then, last year, I went back. Just for 10 days.
And it was the longest 10 days of my life.

Places were closed.
The coffee shops I used to romanticize felt sterile.
Second City was gone.
Santa Monica felt like a ghost town.
Even in July.

I met up with a friend, and for a moment ... just a flicker ... the warmth returned. But it didn’t last. The conversations were different. The rhythm was off.
You think you can pick up where you left off.
But time doesn’t wait. And neither do cities.

Only about 20% of the people I knew were still there.
Still grinding. Still building. And you know what?
I’m not only happy for them ... I’m proud.
Because watching them keep going reminded me of everything we used to believe in.
And for a split second, that old what if crept in.

But deep down, I knew:
I’ve grown out of it.
And at the same time, I never left it.

Because I’m still in the hustle.
Still creating. Still dreaming.
Just not in L.A.

The truth is… it wasn’t Los Angeles I missed.
It was the feeling of Los Angeles.

The fire in my gut. The hunger.
The stubborn belief that something extraordinary was just around the corner.
That if I stayed just a little longer, tried just a little harder ... just like my old friends did... It would all click.

But feelings don’t live in places.
They live in people. In moments. In the version of you that once stood there, wide-eyed, unscarred, maybe a little reckless.

That version of me doesn’t live there anymore.

And I think… that’s the part that hurt the most.
Not that L.A. had changed.
But that I had.

And nostalgia?
It’s not a craving for what was.
It’s grief for what used to feel possible.
And the quiet strength of knowing ...
you’re still chasing that feeling.
You just found a new place to do it.

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About the Author
Mish’al Samman is a writer, performer, and lifelong fanboy who began his career covering comics, film, and fandom culture for Fanboy Planet in the early 2000s. With a voice rooted in sincerity, humor, and cultural observation, his work blends personal storytelling with pop-culture insight. Whether he’s reflecting on the soul of Star Wars or exploring identity through genre, Mish’al brings a grounded, human perspective to every galaxy he writes about.