I just sent a long, thought-out e-mail to an old friend, and its gotten me thinking about changes that we all go through. When do we decide to be different people? Can we even decide to be different people? I mean, if I wanted to change onto someone else, could I? Where are the essences of our selves, and how mutable are they? Do some people see them more easily than others? Is that why some people are rarely amazed at their friends actions while others are constantly amazed what the people that they like are capable of? Is there even an essence of a person that we can see, or are the actions of an individual all we get to see who they really are? What part plays thought? What part hope? What part love? Can we love someone that we dont know, or does that just mean that were loving an image? Images can be broken but people cant? I mean, can I love something about someone without loving the whole person, or is that just loving an image that all-too-often can be a reflection of me distorted by the reflective surface?
Fortunately, I didnt say any of this in my e-mail, or else Id be expecting a restraining order, not a reply, and I have high hopes. Now, if only Id get myself out of my chair in time to get back in touch with other people that used to matter to me, people that probably still do matter to me, if only Id let them. Sometimes, I feel like all the people that are gone that I used to love somehow are like little cuts, bleeding a little bit all the time, not enough to kill me, but, man, Id feel a lot better if Id just quit bleeding. Theyre not bandages, but a part of me, and when that part is missing, Im less than whole.
Just thinking about all the people that this idea covers begins to hurt my head. I cant help but start a list, and its too potentially depressing to continue. So Ill quit while Im still ahead. Ill keep my memories close to me like bandages because theyre the only thing that stems the constant loss.
