Day Forty-five - Souvenirs d'un autre monde

I might have been a bit too harsh in my last post, regarding Valter. Yes, he was weird, but i was no less weird than him. In a sense, all my friends have always been mainly weird, and that was always fine by me. But his friendhsip was something I treasured greatly during the half-decade it lasted, and as will be patently shown further down the line, the loss of that friendship was something that pained me deeply. I learned a lot from him when it came to the metal world, and I admired his proficiency playing Street Fighter II - he was much better at than I was, and though I could beat him often, he got the upper hand on me on a much more constant basis. I wouldn't say I was much of a button-masher, but I relied a lot on special moves, whereas he was more into combos than me. I spent some really good times with him and his brother : we went to concerts together, we spent countless hours looking at records and toys in the stores, we were truly good friends. And I should also extend a word of appreciation towards his family; though like all other families they had their quirks and idiosyncrasies, they welcomed me always with open arms. Again, as a sort of weird kid myself, I wouldn't be always expecting that people be nice to me. But they were, and sometimes when I went to visit them they'd let me have lunch with them, or they'd have me over for the weekend and feed me - and this at a time when my family life was a tough one. I'll probably write about it a bit more in depth soon, but the earlly 90's were rough for my family. Sometimes we wouldn't have enough to eat, some days we were lucky to get a sandwich for dinner, and I rarely was able to eat at school - there never seemed to be enough to go around back then. It'll be fun revisiting the antics I got up to back then, that's for sure.

But to have that safe haven at his place was a boon I sorely needed, and I don't know how much worse off I'd have been had I not had that refuge. Even though sometimes there would be the occasional outburst from his father, staying at Valter's was always the best moment of my week - school was tough, home was just as tough, and I felt very alone back then. The friends I'd make along the way were never quite in the same category as he was, and maybe personally, I should have let him know more often how much I prized having him as a friend. Though our friendship died many years ago - going on thirty years now, fuck me - I can't help but have fond memories of that time we shared. As you'll come to see in the near future, there was a clear divider between us, and I wouldn't have changed anything. But had the roles been reversed? I'd still be his friend.