Dear Carrie,

I couldn’t help but wonder: had the time come to finally let you go?

You were so many things to me. A lifestyle, an emotional compass, a reason to romanticize even our worst mistakes. Your neuroses and your frivolity represented a generation of women like no one else in the ’90s and 2000s. Chasing toxic men was, perhaps, part of being young — of still learning. You were messy and fabulous, and we loved you for that.

You always chose authenticity. You fought for the zsa zsa zsu kind of love, the one that makes your stomach flip, and you got it — the “can’t live without you” kind. You tamed Mr. Big, married him in a dreamlike ceremony, and gave us the illusion that maybe — just maybe — we could have it all too.

You gave us an unforgettable New York. You were our guide, our best-dressed insider, always updating us on where to drink, what to eat, and how to feel fabulous doing it. You turned heartbreak into columns, and columns into catharsis. We felt understood.

But then, you came back.
And just like that, you were no longer you.

And it wasn’t because you were “old,” as some cruel voices claimed. It was because your soul left with Big. The Carrie who once captivated us disappeared that day. What we saw afterward was a shadow — of you, of Miranda, of Charlotte — all trying to adjust to a time that no longer belonged to them. Apologizing for being who they were. Explaining themselves. And losing their charm in the process.

Watching Miranda bent out of shape by desperate writing, Charlotte turned into a caricature — and you, Carrie, hesitant, misplaced, adrift — was painful. You revisited the past with Aidan, perhaps looking for closure. But nearly slipped on another Berger. (Yes, Duncan — good riddance. And stay in London.)

I still don’t know how your final goodbye will play out. But I know it’s time.

You deserve to leave with grace. You were far too iconic to be remembered just for the stumbles.

And now, it’s official. Michael Patrick King wrote, “And just like that… the ongoing storytelling of the Sex and the City universe is coming to an end.” He said that while writing the final episode of season 3, he realized it might be a beautiful place to stop. That he and Sarah Jessica Parker held off announcing the news so the word “final” wouldn’t overshadow the joy of watching the season. I respect that.

I’m Sorry.
I Can’t.
Don’t Hate Me.

But we felt this ending long before. We felt it when your essence got lost in the noise of reinvention. When style drowned out soul. When your boldness turned into hesitation.

So here I am — with gratitude, with criticism, with deep affection — saying goodbye.

You had already said everything.
You had already said everything.
You had already said everything.