An’ here I
go again on my own
Goin’ down
the only the only road I’ve ever known,
Like a hobo
I was born to walk alone
An’ I’ve
made up my mind
I ain’t
wasting no more time
Thank our
lucky star for music: where would we be without it? But, most of all, where
would I get my intros without it??
You might
have guessed, at this point, the topic of this post isn’t an upbeat one, one
about happiness and the comfort we get from our loved ones.
Well you
have guessed wrong. Sort of.
This post
wants to be about nostalgia and that feeling you get when you are parted from
your loved ones.
Friends…
Family… Co-workers… Even pets, why not.
I’ve spent
the most part of the last 16 years travelling, studying here and there, working
here and there, networking all over the face of Earth (kind of) and I learnt
two things from these years:
1) Looks like planet Earth isn’t flat
after all… Who knew! Still not sure about not falling from its edges, though,
it could be missing a slice…
2) Sometimes feelings, just any kind of
feeling really, are not always mutual.
Obviously,
we are not going to discuss the “fact” that the planet may or may not be flat
like Adriana Lima’s stomach: it would imply a large amount of sarcasm that I cannot
manage right now.
Next time
perhaps.
What I mean
by feelings not being mutual is something that I had to learn the hard way,
with experience and on my skin.
I mean,
unmutualness actually passed on this marvellous never-ageing skin of mine, can you
believe it?
I clearly
am not talking about love in a “girl-meets-boy-life-is-crap” way, enough of
that already in just any other post on this blog…
I am
talking about mainly friendships. Some family relations would apply as well.
I have
always been very (too?) proud of my ability of keeping in touch, of diversifying,
of loving unconditionally and of loving like there is not tomorrow; I have been
called a friend-whore, but truth is it isn’t as easy to get my friendship as it
looks.
I don’t
discriminate based on political views, sexual orientations, (sadly) musical
orientations, age, education, looks, social status, weirdness and so on,
therefore have amongst those I like to call my friends: teachers, students,
musicians, people who think there is a God, people who think they are God, fat,
skinny, tall, not as tall, vegans, chefs, military, flower children, children
of the corn… wait… no… no children of the corn: they scare the living shit out
of me.
I like to
think of myself like a person with a balanced social diet. At least that one I
got right!
But there
are restrictions to join this club: no homophobes, no hunters, no people trying
to force their beliefs on you, no fans of Tokyo Hotel, no judgemental people,
no un-dead, no animal haters, no presumptuous people when they are dumb, trying
to avoid killers and party-poopers but they might sneak in, no children of the
corn (away, you bastards!).
Mainly my
concerns are of the idealistic kind, as you can see.
Moreover, I
really do not like those children of the corn.
However,
all this just to say that for me friends are freaking important and I just
wished I were as important for them.
I write
messages, I tag you on Facebook, I call, I tweet (literally, because I’m bloody
Snow-White and I befriend birds, not because I actually got a hang of that Twitter
mess), I drop by, I pick up, I cook, I remember, I listen, I talk, I sing, I
dance, I would paint if I could (but I really can’t) and, most of all, I miss
you.
I really do
miss you.
I might not
write every single day, I might not tell you about my heartbreak (that is what
this blog is for) but I promise, I do really miss you.
So, please,
one single thing I ask of you, and I am asking for myself and for all of those
upbeat, loud, happy-go-lucky, always cheerful, over friendly, slightly
embarrassing, madly crazy, inappropriate friends you all have (if you don’t
know who this friend is in your life, chances are it’s you), please miss us.
Miss me.
Send us a
message, write us a mail, tag us on Facebook, drop by, talk, listen and everything
else, because we love you.
And we miss
you.
And if we
don’t say it enough, it’s just because we don’t want to overstep our role of
the carefree person in your life, but most of all because we don’t want to
bother you.
Guess what:
if you are always the one writing the message, it feels like the receiver of
that message didn’t really care about getting it.
Might not
be so, but feels that way.
Again: just
miss us and let us know.
