Like we could never part.
Even if I were to now pick up the guitar and whip up a song or two and have them named after some of the best guys I have ever known, I doubt it would work as well for me as it did with Christopher Owens’ “Laura”.
Perhaps I could have a “Jason” to soberly remind me of the many times when we got knee-deep into trouble together at school; an “Eric”, whom I once saw genuine concern clouding his eyes over my well-being; or a “Greg” to serenade me again back to the place of zeroes and ones where we first met.
I mean, damn: I really wanted to be part of that awesome jam starting at approximately 3:05 of the song – I could be the one helping out with the stadium-esque backing harmonies, or just be the one waving glowsticks and swaying to the beats in the dark all alone, and yet not feel sorry for myself. I am now but a random listener, always turned into a puddle of unrecognisable mush whenever the song draws to a triumphant close, fist punched high up in the air.
We could be friends until the end of it all, but sadly, reacquaintance is absolutely not an option at the moment.
The trick now, of course, is to first learn how to play that bloody guitar… but sometimes I feel I am getting too old for this.