Ramblings. Don't Make It More Important Than It Is
Saturday, December 1
I miss my friends.
It's nice to travel. It's pleasant meeting new people. But there is something to be said about being in a place that's home. That's familiar. You enter a pocket and it's a ritual. Good friendships are sacred like that. Trust. Commitment. Wine. When you meet new people, where do you start? From the beginning. It seems so far away from where we want to be. Can't we give each other our extra years? Where are the old jokes? Where are the memories? Where is the unlimited forgiveness?
As of now - it's polite. Like the secretary. As you are with strangers. The way you treat people, because it's safe. I look at people and say very little. All I can do is focus on how far we have to go. So much we have to say on what is that I can and cannot say, before we even get comfortable. Honestly - I don't care about your books and your music. I don't want to know who your heroes are. Can you make me laugh? Help me forget the hard day, like a good liquor, minus the hangover and the money, though equally as valuable. Are you strong enough to tell me what embarrasses you, because I will tell the world the instant you make them available to me.
Let me go there. Let me be rude. Put my foot in my mouth. Let me cross that line of yours that you dug in the sand with the shovel that your uncle gave you for your fourth birthday before he left to be gay in some city that your family speaks little of because only deviants go there. Then let me apologize for it. Simply accept it. I will be eternally grateful for your patience and compassion. And then we can be the dearest of friends - laughing, probably at the expense of one another, definately at the expense of everyone.
It's nice to travel. It's pleasant meeting new people. But there is something to be said about being in a place that's home. That's familiar. You enter a pocket and it's a ritual. Good friendships are sacred like that. Trust. Commitment. Wine. When you meet new people, where do you start? From the beginning. It seems so far away from where we want to be. Can't we give each other our extra years? Where are the old jokes? Where are the memories? Where is the unlimited forgiveness?
As of now - it's polite. Like the secretary. As you are with strangers. The way you treat people, because it's safe. I look at people and say very little. All I can do is focus on how far we have to go. So much we have to say on what is that I can and cannot say, before we even get comfortable. Honestly - I don't care about your books and your music. I don't want to know who your heroes are. Can you make me laugh? Help me forget the hard day, like a good liquor, minus the hangover and the money, though equally as valuable. Are you strong enough to tell me what embarrasses you, because I will tell the world the instant you make them available to me.
Let me go there. Let me be rude. Put my foot in my mouth. Let me cross that line of yours that you dug in the sand with the shovel that your uncle gave you for your fourth birthday before he left to be gay in some city that your family speaks little of because only deviants go there. Then let me apologize for it. Simply accept it. I will be eternally grateful for your patience and compassion. And then we can be the dearest of friends - laughing, probably at the expense of one another, definately at the expense of everyone.
