This is for you, you who are celebrating your own life without regret. You have gone, but you have not died, and for this I find the reason not to mourn your loss of presence. Physical presence. Not that you’re always present, but as my friend and a person who has touched me figuratively, no time has been really lost. In a way you were always there, and even when you weren’t, you still were; and now that feeling is vindicated by your absence. Physical absence. I really cannot explain how this is not making me feel any sadness, because your absence has always been your presence. In the events where our friendship has grown ground, it was online where we communicated, and honestly, as sociopathic as myself, it was the best way we could have done it. So it should keep on. Share me some more music.
More music, more films, more bottles of wine, the occasional drop. I have felt your presence with the introduction of every vice. Every single one I have tried, respected, and loved, even after you said you’ve stopped. In a way this is culture, and with all these I have learned, and it is nice how you’ve taught me, unconventionally but so convincingly, without goading me on, without leading me to ruin. I do not know if you are fully aware of this thing you’ve done but I want to thank you anyway. You have lead me to open my own life, for my own sake, with so much independence.
Shocking that you have managed to elude most gatherings but never really escaped the circles. You included yourself in the matters of our lives while not totally being present: absent but still remembered, like a seedling in the soil one manages to miss and never really uproot. No one has ever tried uprooting you, and it is ironic how you seemed like you wanted to be. Towards the day of your departure, we have suspected your tactic, that tactic of yours to burn the bridges, parts of your life here, while on your course towards the next, to the next country. We suspected and, well, while it was obvious, we fuckin persevered to reach you. And then there we all were, together on your last night here, discussing your life, your future, and the fact that you haven’t packed your bags yet.
I think, to the measures that I have learned, that night held no tough goodbyes. Your leave was just another thing coming, and for your next step we are happy. There was no need to thank you, I felt. No thank you, I miss you, and goodbye, only one goodluck for your life. I couldn’t say anything alluding to something final, because that night wasn’t an ending, and therefore there isn’t another beginning, just a higher step on your ladder. The friendship prevails, the memories keeping it in place.
And we are all looking forward to seeing you another night, one just like any other. You’d appear, maybe late, but no one would care; you might leave early, or you might stay til the morning. We’d all sit down, exchange the usual greetings, eat, drink and smoke, with the shallow realization that you haven’t really left, and the friendship hasn’t been gone. For no matter how many times you'd leave, your heart stays with us and for that we are grateful for your gift of friendship.