About a year ago I said good bye to a lot of people. One of them was harder than the others. It’s been weighing on my mind lately because it has been about a year since I got here.
A year ago I cut my last show on my favorite radio station I’ve ever worked at. A year ago I had my “last” (at least for a few months) drink at the Black Sheep. I had my “last,” trip to the pier, to Ricks, to well everything. A year ago I awkwardly poured my heart out to a couple of people about some things and everyone said the same thing, “Tell them. Tell them how you feel.”
And I guess I did. I mean sort of. I mean not even at all. And someone told me I’d regret it if I didn’t. And I do. But I don’t. Because I knew it was selfish to say anything. So I didn’t. Not really. Not directly. Because everything I said came out like this blog. Muddled. Not clear.
But I like to think they knew what I was saying. I like to think they still know what I’m saying. Even when I’m not saying a word, because that’s how it was. Never a question.
I didn’t say what I wanted then. I’m sure as hell not going to say it now. If I’m right, they know anyway.