Talking with someone on Twitter about Mark Owen’s new tour and how it’s impossible for me to come (money issues and possibly losing my job if I take days off in June to travel 7000 miles) they told me “that’s life, not always fair… but at least you saw Take That in concert!”

That’s when I realized that not many people whom I considered ‘friends’ have an idea of what Mark means to me and how important his music’s been in my life.

It would comfort me though to know that at least a handful of people realize for sure that sometimes when you like a band or a solo artist (especially when they are the opposite sex) sometimes there’s so much more than sexual attraction. Not because I like Mark Owen it means that I only listen to him because I wanna shag him.

I don’t think anyone knows for sure what the artists I listen to mean to me - particularly Mark. Yeah, I’ve been into Bon Jovi and Take That since the early 90s and have followed Mark’s and Jon’s solo careers as well, but that doesn’t mean that as I grew up, I kept listening to them because they were hot.

If that had been the only reason why I listened to them, I can assure you that nowadays when someone reminded me of the fact that I was into them back in the 90s I would laugh regretfully, pitying myself.

Jon’s and Mark’s music have pretty much shaped my life, they have been the soundtrack to it. Music’s been the only thing that was there for me when I had no friends because I was new in town, when I didn’t know where to go, when I needed someone to understand me, someone to listen to me…

And Mark’s been the one I chose to comfort me when I lost my mom, when I was depressed, when I lost my job because of my depression, when I didn’t want to get up from bed, when I wanted to sleep and never wake up, when all I cared about was killing myself and stop feeling miserable. 

So when people tell me things like the ones I’ve been told on Twitter, it upsets me. And it’s not something that only happens on Twitter. It happens to me in real life. It happens to me when I tell a ‘friend’ that I haven’t been able to listen to Mark’s music since I met him last year (and it’s already been 16 months already), when I can’t stop crying as soon as I hear the first three chords of ‘Stars’, when I can’t stop shaking when he’s tweeting, when I think about how stupid I was last year for not saying anything else than ‘Thank You’ last year, when I can’t believe my luck that I’m not able to travel to the Europe later this year to see him perform, to let his music wrap around me, to let him envelop him with his words.

No-one understands me. No-one knows what I feel when I listen to him.

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