When I meet a friend, I should only ask them to give me the pleasure of spending some good time together. Maybe to talk about something that only they can understand, considering everything we have been through.

I often manage to do this, but sometimes I can’t. And often it happens that people run away. I think they’re afraid of the truth they might share. Sharing their truth with me, means showing me that they are fragile. 

Sometimes I just want to block her number. Forget I met her. And other times I wish it was easier to see her. Maybe the latter is the way I feel when I don't text her for more than one day. It may seem like a short time.

But she’s the one I text everyday. She’s the one I text to say “Hello”. 

Many years ago I was in Turkey. I had to come back to Greece and there wasn’t a direct train from Istanbul. I had to reach the border and take a train for Alexandroupoli.

When we took it, it was a hot day. Our clothes smelled of apple tea and hookah. Someone close to our sofa smoked mint tobacco. We didn’t have clean clothes, so they were the same we had last night in Turkey. We left the hostel with our heavy backpacks.

While I was starting to recover from surgery, I was preparing a song to play on the guitar during the first call I'd make. I practiced every day, knowing that my voice was terrible. And damn it, I believed in it.

Like an idiot, I'd open my phone, grab my new guitar, strum a few chords, and start singing. I tried and tried again.

The funniest thing about having a new shitty misfortune is that I can make jokes about it. It's not every day you get a tumor, after all. I have my limits too. As my mom always says when I tell her, I only had a benign tumor. Not malignant. And that fucking matters. But now I can make jokes about a tumor. Benign.