Thursday, July 1, 2010

I needed a yellow shirt to wear today. Looking in my drawer, I only had one. My Sweden shirt from a dear, dear friend. I wore it. And it made me think.

Oh, Sweden, how I miss you. I miss you like crazy. I was a complete ass to you and I regret it. I was selfish and impatient and stupid. I know that there is no going back, no forgiveness, but I wish there was.

Sweden's not just a place on a map for me. It's a person. I don't know how or why he found me, but he did. And we...well, we were friends. More than friends perhaps. Packages and letters back and forth. Marathon video calls. Pages upon pages of IMs.

And I miss him.

I had met someone new. A local idiot. I broke contact with Sweden. I was stupid. After the local idiot was gone, I reconnected, but it wasn't the same. It couldn't be. I regret that.

Even though I've moved on and so has he, each in our own lives, I miss the marathon conversations. I miss seeing his face all the time, even if he does live on the other side of the world. I miss him making fun of me for my horrible Swedish or for never being out of bed when we talked. I miss hearing how his races went, worrying if his travels were safe. But you know what? I still do that, I still worry about him. I try to track his stats during track season. I pray that he's safe during his travels. My phone password is related to him. Even if were not friends and don't talk anymore. I still look for him on messenger. Makes me sound crazy, doesn't it?

So, I miss him. I worry about him. It sucks. The last time we communicated, he had been in New York. It made me wish that we were still friends, because he could have come here. And I hope that if he ever did make it to my neck of the woods, he'd at least email me. It's hopeful thinking and I need to let it go.

But I'm keeping my shirt. And I can still tell you what time it is in Sweden just by looking at my watch. When I hear certain songs, I still think about him.

Jag är ledsen min vän och jag saknar dig.