How the People We Once Loved Become Strangers Again
It’s intriguing to consider how we transform individuals who once meant everything to us into insignificance once more. The process of forgetting, the deliberate act of erasing memories, and the substitutes we place in the interim all raise questions. The aftermath dynamics often reveal more than the relationship itself did - grief tends to teach faster than joy. However, what does it signify when we revert to being strangers? In that sense, you never truly stop understanding each other. Perhaps there is no option but to reshape them into someone different in your mind, not the individual who was privy to your daily worries, your naked vulnerability, your tears, and the depth of your affection.
Even when our lives no longer revolve around someone, remnants of their presence persist, etched in the places visited, the conversations shared, and the melodies listened to. Eventually, we find ourselves in a checkout line, a familiar song playing, and suddenly we realize we are once again revolving around them. Maybe we never truly ceased.
Do we ever truly forget our lovers' birthdays, or the myriad first experiences, intimate or otherwise? Can anniversaries revert to being ordinary days? Do the actions taken and promises exchanged lose their significance post-breakup, or are they deliberately disregarded due to lack of choice? The mind propels you forward, compelling your heart to comply, I suppose.
I like to believe that you either harbor a perpetual form of love for someone, or you never truly loved them at all. The encounter between two reactive elements changes both forever. Sometimes the scars we leave behind are too raw to risk revisiting. I refuse to accept that we dismiss each other because we are no longer essential. Love is not disposable. I ponder, and perhaps hope, if we sometimes coerce it to be out of necessity.
Maybe we are all at the core of our own universes, occasionally intersecting with others, leaving a lasting impact. These collisions can either devastate, transform, or retract us, influenced by the comfort of relinquishing what we thought we knew. Regardless, growth is inevitable. We are left with a deeper understanding of love's capabilities, the ache that only an emptiness in our heart, bed, or the space beside us can bring. Whether that void will ever again be filled by the one who caused it... I cannot say. Whether anyone else can match the impression left by someone deeply ingrained in you... that, too, remains uncertain.
We all commence as strangers. Love choices often seem predestined. We are drawn to individuals inexplicably, finding souls composed of the same essence as ours. Our lives intertwine with classmates, partners, neighbors, and family, creating a sense of unity that feels inseparable. While this is beautiful, it is not the simplicity or accessibility we yearn for. It is not the focus of this discourse. It is not what we revolve around once it vanishes. We await another universe to collide with ours, altering what we cannot change ourselves. It's fascinating how we notice the storm calming, yet perceive the stars differently, unsure whose wreckage will bring us that transformation.
We all originate as strangers, often forgetting that we seldom choose who ultimately becomes a stranger to us.
