I was already leaving my friend when he mentioned his younger brother, who's currently serving in the regular army. He got drafted half a year ago.

I asked my friend, "Do you miss him?"

"Not really, no. I don't really miss people. How is it, actually — to miss someone?"

I was already at the door, so I shook his hand without saying a word and ran away — a question like this could keep me busy for another hour!

More than an hour, actually. I've been thinking about it for the whole week.

I asked another friend of mine, "Do you miss someone?" He said that he regularly sees everyone he wants to see anyway, and he's so busy that he doesn't get lonely. When I asked my niece this question, she said something similar first. Then, she added: "I don't think we miss other people. We miss who we were with them and how we felt back then." And I can get behind that.

I feel like I moved through life completely indifferent towards people in general for the first twenty years of my life. And if I got asked back then, "Do you miss someone?", I'd interpret it differently and say "I don't get bored — I can always entertain myself." (In Russian, words "to be bored" and "to miss [someone]" share the same root and sometimes sound exactly the same).

Then, somewhere along the way, I got attached to a few people. And with them, I could compare that longing to an unsatiated hunger. I remember abandoning my family on January 4th, even though I'd usually spend the whole New Year's weekends with them, because it was unbearable to be separated from my friends for two weeks. Then, some relationships faded naturally, and with some, it was like fasting — at some point your brain realizes that no amount of signals will make you get your food, so you just stop being hungry. And now, there's no person I'd drop everything to see. I sometimes miss having that in my life. But it's a peaceful life.