It seems like nowadays, we only talk when something’s wrong. I don’t know when we decided that. Was there an old us? If there was, I guess I miss it. At least, I miss feeling like you were the person I trusted most in the world. It’s a sad thing when you realize you’re only holding onto someone’s trust out of habit. When was it that we promised each other we had secrets nobody else could know? When was it that I gave up on that idea, and a million others we both had simultaneously, and about each other, without ever having to say a thing?

I’ve been worried a lot lately about whether I’m the person I think I am. And if I’m not, who am I? This isn’t like Alice in Wonderland, where my identity is only a question of my height and weight and whether I can talk to cats. Alice had it easy.

You’ll have to forgive me if I seem confused or if I don’t make an effort in our conversations. It’s not because I don’t care – actually, it’s because I care too much. Every now and then I want to tell you exactly how much is too much, but I know that’s not a good idea, and so most of the time I just try to keep my mouth shut.

It’s interesting how differently everyone in the world perceives us. In any given moment, we could be unknowingly making an impact on someone’s life in a way we can’t imagine. Other times, we do know exactly the impact we’re making, and if it’s a bad one we just have to hope we won’t cross paths with that person again, or if we do it will be under kinder circumstances. The older we get, the longer grows the list of people we wish we could re-do our last moments with. I think last moments are scariest as much because they might not actually be last moments as for any other reason.

I feel like we have more in common than we used to, but less desire to make that mean something. There was a time when as close as we may have been, we couldn’t have been more different. Now, the fact that we actually have more in common than we thought seems to mean little except that we were both wrong about yet another thing.

It seems strange to say that things happened when we were kids. Aren’t we still kids? I wonder if it ever really stops feeling like you don’t know what you’re doing. I understand more now why people cling on so desperately to their traditions, even when those traditions are clearly harmful. When something is a part of you, reason drops out of the equation. In the end, we’re all just traditionalists fighting other older or younger traditionalists.

Somehow it’s still comforting to think that we could make our way in the world on isolated yet parallel paths. Even if we’re not headed to the same destination, there are points along the way where our lives intersect, and we feel the exact same way at the exact same time. If we don’t meet up again for some time, then I guess this will be goodbye. Not forever; just for now.