Tuesday, 20 January 2009

Missing

Leaving London, my life and my friends there, almost broke my heart. So why don’t I miss the place, or my life there? I don’t even miss my mates that much. Sorry. But then you’re likely too busy to miss me, either. You have so many other things to occupy your mind when you’re constantly changing your surroundings. From the basics of getting from A To B, to entering a beach bar full of people when you’re on your own and feeling self-conscious. Johnny No Mates. You get over it; you have to. Sometimes I think it’d be nice to have some of the gang out here, but since I’ve been travelling on my own I actually prefer it. On your own timetable, go where you like, do what you want. See what you’re made of. No, I miss silly things. My leather wallet, instead of this crappy nylon travel one with the loud Velcro™ rrrrrrrrrip every time I open it (that’ll be a nice advert for thieves in Latin America); cycling down the canals in Hackney; Autumn (I’d miss this as long as I lived); my firm bed; jeans; my record collection. They’ll be there if/ when I get back, though. As will London, and my mates.

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