Old Friend


The thing about old friends is that they are not exactly friends when you meet them in the future.More like familiar strangers at best. It’s like finding your old blanket after many years only to realise it isn’t quite as brightly coloured as you remembered it. It won’t quite go around your shoulders as it used to and did you imagine it ever so rough? Wasn’t it a nice fuzzy warm feeling that held you wrapped in security- or blissful ignorance? I don’t know which. It’s one or the other.

Quite simply friend, you are not who I used to know. And neither am I. I see as much of the changes in you as there are in me.
Somehow, the knowledge of this is both heartbreaking and resolute because,
in my mind, I know that very little ever stays the same. You must morph into whatever it is that you will eventually be and so should I.

I know this is how it must be.
So tell me, why do I feel so sad?

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