One of the hardest things about being a rolling stone like I am, isn't so much leaving people you love and like, as much as it is feeling left by people. In the past three years, I've been sent to six different places, and haven't stayed in any of them for one consecutive year. I've seen people come and go, and have come and gone myself. I've made brothers and sisters, loved and lost, but the thing that always sits with me the heaviest, is wondering who'll miss me when I'm gone.
I'm not as conceited as I pretend to be on the surface. I know not everybody loves Sonata, but I always wonder who does. I have my family that I know I can always rely on. My brothers, my blood brothers (there's a difference) and my mom. But how long does it take for someone to ask where I am when I'm not there? It's just one of those things that goes through my head while I'm thinking about all of the stuff I miss from home. And then I step outside and look at this beautiful Honduran skyline and remember that there will be way more to miss very soon.
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