Missing You

I miss my friend.

Davide Langs was a great love in my life. No, we were never "together" like that. He doesn't (didn't?) like the ladies. But he was a great love.

About two years ago (has it really been that long?) he had to go away for awhile. Read into that what you will...you're probably spot on. He returned, briefly, over a year and a half ago. Then he went away again. For a time, we managed to keep in frequent contact, despite international charges. I spoke to him one day and he said he was going to come back to New York in the next couple of weeks. That was the last I heard from him.

I discovered not too long after that call that he had been spirited away to a center in Switzerland. I figured he'd be there for a few months.

The months passed and kept passing. I managed to get some contact information and I sent him a letter. I don't even know if it got to him.

I don't know if he's still in Switzerland. I don't know if he's back in Italy. I don't know if he's here in New York. I don't know if he's dead or alive. I do know I can't seem to get him out of my head lately.

For a very long time I didn't think of him at all. Self-preservation I guess. But in the last few months, he has crept into my consciousness again in a disturbingly all-pervasive manner. I've dreamed about him and meditated about him and can't get him out of my mind. Everything I see reminds me of him. It's safe to say we were quite merged at one point. Last night I was at a play and I could have sworn he was sitting two rows in front of me. For most of the play, I didn't hear a word the actors spoke. After the curtain call, I slipped down to the man I thought was my friend and grabbed his arm. Of course it wasn't him. My adrenaline did not appreciate that moment of mistaken identity.

I miss him. I want to know where he is; if he's still on this planet. I've put phone calls in to everyone I know who might KNOW. They're not calling me back and I'm starting to think there may be a message in that.