A stranger, yet a friend. Every insignificant detail is known by that stranger. It is because I chose to tell ‘em. Yet that stranger somehow manages to know the exact character and puts it in one word, when I struggle to put it in sentences.
It is scary.
A tone is enough to understand by the stranger what I refuse to accept. It is said out loud by the stranger and I stubbornly refuse to admit. Reasons are given; it is pride that is talking.
The truth is: it is accepted, just that it is not said out loud. Pride you see... Here comes the act of ‘different’ pretending, “I’m strong.” Saying those things, sometimes integrates it in us I guess. Saying it out loud is self convincing. Helps sometimes.
There is this struggle of accepting the change. Something sudden new is not obviously warm heartedly welcome in some comfortable world. A mess. Some fights. But in the end, “I understand” is said. Perfect. No explanations. Ends the topic right there. Space is given right there. Friendship is resumed right then.
What surprises me is, this entire thing works with a stranger. But never did it work with some close anyones. Maybe that is how it is when there are no expectations...
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