I got a call today, from a friend, a long lost friend, a beautiful soul, a Friend that faded with time. She was crying, I was worried, and -- as usual -- worst scenarios came to my head, Did she lose her mother?, Is she sick?.
I asked why she was crying, and she started apologizing, repeating I'm sorrys over and over again. I was confused, I got to know that she reads my book Something Broken, now Something Mending. She was crying for me.
She apologized for neglecting me, letting me wallow in my brokenness alone. She repeated I love yous. She said she misses me, I told her I miss me too.
This phone call made two things known. One is how much I've changed. How different I am now. How 2 years ago seem like 2 decades ago. How much I've changed. A beloved person told me she doesn't know me, the real me. How can I tell her I don't know me either?. How can I tell her I'm torn?. How can I tell her I've worn a lot of faces to cover mine, to the extent that I've lost my real face. How can I tell her I don't know me?. So much layers. Soo much layers. Too much layers.
The other thing I found out is she wasn't crying for me. She wasn't crying for me. She was crying for herself, perhaps I am a reflection of the part of her that she keeps hidden, Perhaps she sees herself in my writings, Perhaps she's broken, and not yet aware.
Perhaps, Perhaps not.
______ ellie a. o.