Just to say, I miss you.
I miss waking up in my best friend’s bed, which is very much the same as my own. I miss the sun streaming through the top and bottom of the thick closed curtains… just to let me know I’m still magic, and have once again brought the sun to North London. Stretching, lounging, and straining to listen over the screaming children at play across the street to see if anyone else is awake yet… The scent of brewing coffee answers my question and soon there will be some band’s brand new tunes wafting from Matt’s bedroom. With bed head and sleepy eyes, I’ll perch myself on the love-seat and leaf through some fashion or music magazine that won’t be out for another month or so in the States, while Clive hides all traces of the makeshift bed in the living room and checks emails. Three troubadours join in silent camaraderie to seize the glorious morning spread before us. Breathe in the coffee’s steam… (the brand of which I still cannot remember.) Soon we’ll tell anecdotes of the night before, and soon a phone will vibrate… and the derogatory greeting and conversations littered with “yes bruv” will put a smile on my face. I probably won’t be able to get it off for the rest of the day. I’ll run down a mental list of things to do… places to explore… and people to meet today. Matt will fly down the stairs off to some meeting, because that boy will someday rule the world. Between my friends and I, some decision will be made... and it may involve a walk to Holloway Road to that café for a good English fry up. Or a walk to the tube station… and then heaven knows what we’ll get into, who we’ll meet, what we'll cook, what treasure i'll find on oxford street, what i'll learn, where I'll be next and what ridiculousness I’ll just haaaaappen to stumble upon when I get there. But, I assure you this, it will be wonderful… and it will become a life memorial that I’ll celebrate for years to come. Another sweet soul to dote upon… a new friend to get to know… and each second will seep into songs… into dreams… tint every colour of paint in the palette that makes up my life.
Heartache comes and goes. Happy spells enter and exit. Excitement waxes and wanes. Boredom still visits now and then. But in this place… in Londontown… my heart beats just right. It’s the one place that sounds like all my favourite songs. It’s the one place that mimicks being next to the sea. The one place that brings the stillness/excitement of being in the arms of someone who’s absolutely mad about you… That calm. Being so very much apart of the world and yet being so aware that it’s all so very dim. Engulfed in the peace. Propelled by the undercurrent of joy.
I feel like I’m in some sort of prison. With debts serving as my chains. And I just want to go home.