outsider

in your own home?

an outgrowth?

As you return home, from a place that now seems familiar but was once foreign, where you were nothing more than an outsider, there is an idea awaiting (of you, of what you might have become) and spectators tip-toeing around it. But, for the sake of fairness, they keep up the act of fair judgment. The utterance ‘I have changed’ makes you only complicit in that judgment. It’s too late. You watch as that fake identity slowly gets plastered on to you.

You were an outgrowth from the onset but now you have outgrown that too (yes I am a 30 year old who wants to sleep on time and have my coffee first thing in the morning). No one really cares about ‘who’ you are or were — people almost never care about your idiosyncrasies. I sympathise with them. Only very few can walk with you who then become your friends and partners. The rest? Spectators in passing. You might meet them and share time with them in ways that might seem authentic but, in reality, it would only be provisional. Circumstantial.

It’s curious how we can unite over a common cause with an intensity that encompasses everything. You could talk endlessly; sharing, listening, and laughing — in a hopelessly urgent fashion. And, in the moment you’d think what could be more real than this. The whole point of such a ranty interaction is the rant. But if there is a gap in outlook due to separation in time and space and no real shared experience it’s not the same anymore. It’s an attempt to recreate a past experience: of feeling liberated, enthused and energised. However, with no actual connection and curiosity for each other, relationships are superfluous at best.

…are the nature of our relationships completely determined by the circumstances over which they are formed? Can we reshape them in ways that makes them sustainable? Tolerable? Or will some of them always meet a sudden if not an inevitable end?

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