Strangers to Strangers.

Strangers to Strangers.

Lately I’ve been feeling this underlying sadness triggered by my overthinking of a few things, like:

How the glorification of everyday people pretending to have an awesome life on social media, is the most dominant form of entertainment and even life goal for many people.

Of how we, as a society are more isolated, anxious, depressed, obese, and in debt than ever.

 Of how I’m living in a foreign land that’s far from my own with people who are unaware of my native tongue.  

Of how growing old means losing friendships. One way or another.

Of how making friends at 30 means awkwardly avoiding political talks, and instead constantly talking about what you do for a living, what you wish you could do for a living, and how you miss the good old days.

Of how when you were younger, friends were your everything – but when you get older, friends are merely the people you hang out with when it’s convenient for everyone.

Of how growing up means having different friends for different occasions, topics, and, settings.

Of how you can’t just get in your car and drive full speed, while listening to your favorite playlist, windows down, a cigarette in one hand, and your friends in the backseat, singing their lungs out.


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Of how the bass line of your favorite record of your favorite band could trigger a vividly familiar feeling.

A familiar feeling that reminds you that you will never feel they way you did when you were young, ever again. Free, dangerous, and invincible. 


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Of all the melancholy that floods in everytime I think of how it all changed and what we could’ve done differently.

Of how we’ve gone from strangers to best friends to strangers all over again.

***

“In many ways, I miss the good old days, Someday, oh someday.”

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