With the mass exodus of friends from the island, I feel like a kid again. Left out. Left behind. Torn between what I desire to do, and what’s best for me. Necessity vs. self-indulgence. I’m thinking about how many new friends I’ve made over the last few years .. wondering how much better I could have gotten to know them if I’d been able to keep up the pace. Feeling sorry for falling behind. Hoping they know how much I value their presence, identity, and companionship no matter how many gigs/parties/get-togethers/life events I’ve missed. It’s never been about not wanting to be there. I don’t know if I’ve made that clear enough.

The people who really know me know how much I want to be around for every little moment, every shared laugh, every memory made. If only you knew how much I imprint on my mind and store away for later … for the days when you won’t see me … when I don’t want to see me …

I’m trying my best to keep up. It’s never been a fair race, but I can’t complain anymore. I’m out of breath.