(Also known as, "My god, she's posting twice in a week!")
A friend sent me a few pictures in the mail. In them, we're ten years younger, several pounds lighter, and far more smooth-skinned.
On the surface, it's easy to start lamenting the fact that not too long ago we were in our early twenties. But deeper, where the waters turn murky and turbid, I was struck by something weird: I don't know who that stranger in the pictures is anymore.
Sure, she has most of my same features. I even recognize an item or two of clothing and jewelry– I still own the sweater she's wearing.
But who was that person staring at me with something that looks like my smile? I don't remember who I was or what my motivations were. I have a dim recollection of sitting for the picture; but for all I know, someone could have slipped me roofies and posed me like a bendable doll, taken the picture and just walked away; because if I start thinking too hard about it the memory feels made up– like I'm trying to remember something that never happened in the first place.
Sometimes I think about the things I was eager to do ten years or fifteen years ago and I can't imagine for the life of me what would make a person do that. I don't even mean the momentous stuff: I'm thinking more along the lines of why anyone would wear those shoes or pose in that way for a picture– the trivial stuff.
But yes– that strange meta moment of seeing oneself as a stranger: am I alone in feeling this way?
If you feel like speaking up, please do. I am wondering if I am alone in this weird, circular feeling.