Farewells

Yesterday Sebas left.  Everytime it hurts a little bit less, the farewells I mean. Not because I’m suddenly made of stone, on the contrary, every time I become more permeable to love -To receive, without questioning-

But it always happens to me, that before wishing a friend to have good trip, I remember a flash that sometimes between pitches harasses me.

I call it the Backpack Sequence:

It would be this bag in which I could put whoever I want or make whoever I want a chocolate wrapped, as well as a butter toffee, affection toffee. And when I need – whatever it is – I need that little candy, I unwrap it and a tiny, really small person comes out – like, something made of clay – that climbs up on the left or right side of my shoulder and tells me, what my person of that moment would say to me while it surrounds my temple with its little hands (it does not quite reach to hold my full head, but it really tries).

But then, just before munching a plate of cold noodles with tomato sauce at two in the morning, I realize the selfishness and I remember that what I like most about people is that they do not need anyone to take them anywhere.

I finish my spliff and I take my backpack and put the empty envelopes of candy on the table. I make a collage.

It’s not #letitgo, it’s #recycle.

It’s learning Danish to see Ceci again, it’s using Jenny’s scarf everywhere and the bracelet that Nay gave me. Hold on my ankle every time I miss Delfina and listen to Gabo Ferro when Nacho tells me that he could give me some attention and then the time difference becomes in two days. Is to ask my old lady to send me a video of my dog ​​and I’d hug the pillow waiting for it to lick my face. It is making my list of places wider and wider.

I do not think that missing someone is a weakness. Write and shout that I’m missing. Traveling does not eliminate the problems, it makes you live with them in other intensities. Sometimes more, sometimes less.

Sometimes I ask myself five times a day what the fuck I’m doing, sometimes just one.

Taking advantage of people is to see other ways of coping with crises. When I am very lucky, I adapt their forms until them become my  own. The ways of survival become organic.

I do not believe in destiny. We met and it was beautiful point and apart. I did not take our merit, nobody wrote us the step by step of life.  We are in that, ellipses.

I do not look at the sky because I look for my loved ones and ask them for strength. I look at the sky because I look for the moon that shines and every so often it looks like someone I know. – It resembles in concept, now that I finished the noodles-. It’s more portable and lighter than carrying people on my back. Besides, I’m going to run out of health insurance, I have to take care of my lower back. And my will of still going on because I’m also about  to run out of cash.

That’s why I thought about recycling, people can be like a cable to the ground or to the air -Depends-. The cities might have more or less skyscrapers, and anyway all look a bit like each other. The people, the people, not that much. The ones that I end up liking the most are the ones that recharge me «Keep going on, people are worth the kilometers»  Sure, and I’ll just keep on moving.

And I keep moving, more for the hello(Es)  than for the goodbyes, I’m not a martyr either.

I’m trying to learn how to wash the dishes and minimize the waste of water, as they do in it Brazil and then I go to bed, hugging the pillow, hoping to have funny dreams  about my dog just  ​​to see her a little while longer.

The thing is that yesterday I said «See you», again, convinced that I’m still honest. And then, the farewells every time hurt less.

Shenanigans Bug

There is a point while you are traveling that you get used to leaving.

You get used to the goodbyes and the broken smiles. You accept the un-attachment and the “Having a last beer together”. You know from A to Z all the thank you speeches and the nervous laughs before doing a 180° spin and never come back.

And is because I know all of the above by mind and soul that I thought that I was ready, that I wasn’t going to have any major problem with leaving Thailand.

But I was wrong. It all turned up to be one huge great major and I wasn’t aware of it until I hugged the first person goodbye.

The thing is, I am very conscious and comfortable with the fact that I don’t know what will happen until it happens. So I normally just assume that my reaction will go with the flow. 

Well, I couldn’t go with the flow. I couldn’t because it hurt. 

It hurt like when I was a child and I ripped my primary teeth off because I couldn’t wait any longer for fairy tooth to come. 

Leaving Koh Phangan felt unnatural. Like there was definitely something not right, something unfinished even if I did everything I had to do on the Island.

They said I got the bug, and though I don’t know when I am coming back, they know that I’m doing it. 

Is not like I felt like home (maybe because I haven’t found one yet) but it felt different to anywhere I’ve ever been. 

Like holding a magic box that only gives fantastic anecdotes sprinkled with illegal contexts. 

It’s like a coupon for unlimited laughs available 24/7/365.

It’s like an “I don’t ever want to leave” sign on every door.

I can blame it on being Latin-American, over passionate. But it feels way fairer if I blame the beauty of the places, sunsets and people that I crossed path in the last months. 

Is not like I’m incomplete but there is something missing that I can’t afford to let go. You know what I mean?

Let me put it in this way: Is having the possibility of being myself in every single state of mind without being asked what’s going on today.

It’s the joint that I can’t wait to share again.

So I guess that yes. I know what will happen next. They are right. I got the bug. 

When a feeling like this one hits you, you have no chance but to forget everything you know about leaving places and start learning about returning. Even for a person like me, that planning means a sacrifice for mental health.

After all, no one said that being a Shenanigan was an easy task.