A post on best friends and how they slowly change and secretly grow more and more into the person they always were inside, until one day you realize you're not really sure who they are anymore, or where, buried inside all the extra layers that time and experience have been piling on, your companion and kindred spirit got off to.
Use your memory, and you will find that this is so. Think of someone from college, someone you knew years ago, with whom you parted ways, only to reconnect, briefly, years later.
I have many friends. They are now who they were always going to be. The older we grow, the further we separate, like branches growing on a tree. I miss my old buds, but I wouldn't, myself, go back to being a bud for all the free travel in the world. (And if you know me,you know I'd give up a LOT to be able to travel freely, without expense)
Perhaps I'm one of those people Zimbardo talks about in this video who always look to the past, lamenting what they've lost. I don't want to be that person. That seems, to me, to be the worst sort of outlook to have, so I'm trying to change it. But occasionally, a stray thought crosses my mind... and I remember.... It's hard not to focus on loss. One of my favorite poems is "One Art," by Elizabeth Bishop. I also really love "i carry your heart with me" by e. e. cummings (both introduced to me by In Her Shoes, and excellent movie that you should definitely watch).
Aaaaanyways. I was just thinking of this one really close friend of mine, and wondering about life... and this post is what happened. :P
over 'n out.
E.O.
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