When you’re a kid you are who you are.
When you’re a teen, you become aware, then ashamed, and then you trade who you are. Straight up — you for someone, anyone else.
When you’re in your early twenties, you might lose you entirely. You come home one night and find a letter on the fridge.
“I don’t even know who you are anymore.
I’m leaving. Don’t come after me.”
All the years of neglect and disdain and pretending you don’t exist, finally driving you away.
As the clock ticks and the calendar flips, you end up becoming many things. Some good, some bad, and if you’re honest, you become very lonely. You begin to miss you. You begin to wonder how you’re doing? You begin to have doubts — maybe you were right for each other after all.
“That’s it,” you say one night slamming your drink down on the table. “I’m going to find me.”
Photo by: Matthew T Rader – Dallas Photographer
You begin to make some calls. You meet with people who remember seeing you last. You put in your two weeks. You pay your last months rent. And you go searching for you.
You think back to things you liked to do together. All those things that used to embarrass you about you now make you laugh, now make you proud. Gosh, we had some fun times, you say. How could you have ever been so stupid to let you run away?
And the search that you think will take a month, takes a year, then two years, and maybe a few more. You didn’t realize how far you’d run.
You read books about others and their search for themselves. You become diligent at reading the signs. You begin to know so much more about you it begins to feel like you’re one and the same.
You rehearse the moment so many times in your head when you actually find you. Every night you run through the climatic scene like a screenwriter, you just still can’t find the one to play the role.
Then, it happens. It’s a Tuesday. You see you. Across the street on 5th and Grand. Cars everywhere. People all around. But all you see is you like the actor crossing the dark stage illuminated by a spot of light.
You run across the street, frantically run up behind you, and you tap your shoulder. All the things you were going to say fly away at that sight of your face. And there holding your shoulders, you look in your eyes and say, “It’s you.”
It’s good to know that I’m not the only one who feels like this sometimes. Thanks for that!
Thanks Stephanie!
I know this feeling exactly! I looked in the mirror one day and remember thinking, “WHO THE HELL IS THIS?” That was about a year ago, luckily the other day I looked in the mirror and said… “Oh, its you! How are you, I like you! You are one snazzy adult, you are!”
“You are one snazzy adult, you are!”
Ha. I like that Sarah. Can you come over in the morning and tell me that every day before work?
This was beautiful. So genuinely, artistically beautiful. I can just imagine this as a movie montage running through my mind. I loved it.
Wow thanks for the kind words Annie! Always a privilege hearing from you my friend
Paul,
I am pretty sure we are the SAME person I have said everything in that post to myself at some point in my 20’s. It was like de ja vue! Unfortunately, I think I am stuck in the “then two years, and maybe a few more. You didn’t realize how far you’d run.” phase. I will get there though. Great post! Keep up the good work! I always look forward to your emails. Have a great day!
Ha. Thanks Lauren. Alright, what am I thinking about right now?
This. So much this. Still in the middle of the “hey, that looks like someone I used to know” phase. The epic reunion is coming. When I finish my novel, when I publish my first book of poetry, when I am crowned slam champion. Someday. Every day closer.
Well said Sara! I think that epic reunion is closer than you think. And you’re going to be amazed how slamming you are.
I always have fun reading your posts, but I think this one was amazing. I enjoyed it so much, I had to ignore my boss while finishing the article.
This was story-telling at its best. It just captured me to the very end.
Wow thanks Gloria! Really appreciate those kind words. I’m sure whatever your boss had to say wasn’t that important anyway 🙂
Just wanted to say that I absolutely loved this post. I would never have thought of applying the metaphor of a failed relationship to the search for yourself, but once you put the idea in my head I couldn’t shake the feeling that there were other ways of applying the metaphor. I’ve written my own version of the story at the blog linked above if you’d like to check it out. Thanks for the inspiration!
47
DAYS
14
HOURS
28
MINUTES
once in a lifetime oppurtunity….
🙂 Come find me.~~~~♥♥♥♥
Sincerely, Takakage.
Not completely accurate, but that’s because ….I need you. I hope you can find me….#KHALID Sending you my location cuz I’m…
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Corny.