Essay on How The People We Once Loved Become Strangers Again

 

Essay on How The People We Once Loved Become Strangers Again

It is interesting to think how we become people who were not everything before. How do we learn to forget? How do we force ourselves to forget? What have we put in their place in the interim? The dynamics that follow tell you more than relationships – sadness is a faster teacher than happiness – but what does that mean when you become strangers again?

You never really stop getting to know each other this way. You don't have a choice to make them a different person, don't know your daily worries about how you looked naked and what made you cry and how much you love them.

When our lives revolve around someone, they never stop doing so, even if what remains is a fragment of their memory. Some parts always stick. The memories of the places you went, the words you said and ultimately the songs you listened to are imprinted

We all eventually find ourselves standing in the checkout line, listening to one of those songs and realizing we're walking around them again. And maybe we'll never stop.

Do you ever really forget your boyfriend's birthday or your first intimate relationship? Will your anniversary become a normal day of the year again? Have the steps you took and the promises you made really failed? Are they ineffective now that you're broke or do you ignore them because there's no other option? I think the mind tells you to go ahead and makes your heart follow.

I want to believe that you either love someone, somehow, forever, or you never loved them. Once two reacting chemicals are mixed together, both change. The wounds we leave behind are sometimes so raw that they have no risk of recurrence.

I don't want to believe that we reject each other because we don't matter anymore. I know love can't be wasted. I wonder, and perhaps hope, if we ever force this to happen out of necessity.

Maybe it's just that we're all at the center of our own little universes, and sometimes they overlap with other people, and that little intersection changes some part of it. Conflict can destroy us, change us, move us.

Sometimes we blend together, and sometimes we fall apart because the comfort of losing what we thought we had won. Either way, you'll inevitably stretch. You know a lot about love and what it can do and the pain that can only bring a hole in your heart and space in your bed and emptiness in the next chair.

Whether that hole will ever hold the man who made it so...I don't know. I don't know if anyone else could match the profile of being so deeply affected by you. We all start as strangers.

The choices we make in love are usually the ones that seem inevitable anyway. We find people irrationally attractive. We think of the soul as being made of the same stuff as us. We are classmates and partners and neighbors and family friends and cousins and our lives are so intertwined that they seem as if they could never be separated. And it's lovely.

But convenience and accessibility aren't what we're after. I am not writing about this now. After it's gone we don't hang around. We are all waiting for another universe to collide with our universe, which we cannot change ourselves.

It's interesting how we feel that the storm has subsided, but now we see the stars differently, and we don't know, and we can't choose whose debris will do this to us. We all start out as strangers, but we forget that we rarely choose who ends up being strangers.

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