I love friendships. Besides the whole having friends to trust, to help, to etc. etc. thing, we can learn so much just to getting to know someone else and allowing people to come and be a part of our life.

But I’m not an easy, million friends kind of girl.  I prefer few, meaningful (and sometimes a little not healthy) ones. As a grown woman I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever make friends that last for long again, or if friends from now on will be the ones that I’ll have fun during sometime and later forget about.

Today I thought a lot of the last friends that I made, specifically, the boy kind of friend that I met during college years, shortly before growing up, back in 2005.  I guess that after these boys, keeping friends started to get harder.

The one that I sickly loved the most…

… And had to learn how to love less. He is just that kind of heart-sticky person, with no particular reason for that. There is this Brazilian song that says something like this: “weird would be not to fall in love with you (…) your blue converse matches my black one.” That defines why I loved him from first sight, no logic. Now I have this kind of eternal gratitude for all the rides (and pick-ups) home, and all the put up with my craziness, and for that time when he spent the night sleeping in a chair by my bedside in the hospital. Oh, Alan, so much to be thankful for (and the bad bad girl days are over!).

The one that I am always missing.

No matter what I do, if he isn’t one call-lets-go-see-a-movie-yes-now away, my status is: missing João Vitor. We always have the best several hours long conversation, online or just ‘flaneuring’ around town.  In one of these long talks, he made me the best declaration of love of all time: “so lets do this, when we grow up, I’ll be your Walter Salles and you will be my Daniela Thomas” (the two in the picture). No lover can beat that, I’m sorry, it is not worth to even try. I hope João gets really really rich being a famous movie director, so that someday he’ll have the amount to produce big flops with my poorly written scripts.

My beloved adventure mate

Vinicius. The one and only with the life stories that would make Gabriel Garcia Marquez jealous. Every night that started like a normal hanging out in the bar, could end up with infinite crazy-like-fun with him  (excepted for all that period of bad luck, when we were never able to have fun going out only the two of us… sad times). I wish I could see you singing on a stage twice in a year, for all the years remaining in our lives (only twice, otherwise I could get bored). Once, a common friend said to us “I find the friendship between the two of you so beautiful”. Me too, me too…