Do we know each other?


I remember he was so angry. As we sat among the palm trees and sipped overpriced wine, he shouted things, he said, were about me. In the past, I would have shouted something angry back. For some reason, at that time, I looked at him and wondered what had happened so that he could recognize only this side of me. Why, I could only show him that part of me that hurt him so much. That evening, for the last time, we rode a motorcycle through the warm streets of the island. I know we will meet again. The world is too small for our endless paths not to cross again. Maybe then I will know him again. And he. He will get to know me again.

Many years have passed since I lived everywhere and nowhere. It is not surprising that the friend with whom we use to go through life together made me coffee with milk today. No wonder she forgot that milk makes me sick. Sometimes I wonder if I did well to leave my former life behind the runway. But hearing what my old friends still think of me makes me realize - it's the best thing I've ever done (so far). The one, that everyone seems to know, has remained behind that runway. To this day, I keep getting to know her myself. And I know that this research will be endless.

I usually see my loved ones once a year. Sometimes it doesn't even happen. 365 days don't change my love, the only thing which changes is us.

Who are you this year - my friend keeps asking me. And I'm waiting for his question- I always have a new answer. A lazy person who doesn't know how to get up from the couch. Happiest girl on this earth. Eager to finally fall in love again. Don't believe in love and never will. An actress. The writer. Businesswoman. He hasn't put a label on me so far. He is willing to get to know me every time we meet. And I learn from him. To get to know each one again and again. Even after a decade. I remind myself that I cannot know who is that person anymore. But I want to. To know him. Again.

I was in love twice in my life. And if those men would talk about me, they wouldn't understand that they are talking about the same person. The first one had to go through all the circles of hell through the avalanches of my anger. The other one admitted that he wouldn't even imagine me being angry because I never knew how to be angry with him. I don’t know, which one I loved more. Equally. I expressed love differently at different times. I don't know how to love today. I would probably love a new person in a new way.

We are who we are safe to be. How much space does the other give to be who you are at that moment. When you enter the door with a trembling heart, you realize whether you will be able to cry or must laugh. Because someone has known you as the strongest person and gets lost when the storm of tears comes from you. The other tries to cover you in his arms, although nothing really happened that time. We should unlearn that we know someone. Unlearn that we know everything about a person. Naturally- we are different with a different person. And it’s a bit ignorant to think that the person you use to hang out a year ago is the same one today. He is not. Nor you are.

I have seen people's dreams die, far from being unachievable. People were convinced that they were not for them. More precisely, their environment told them what they are capable of and what they are not. It never occurs to anyone that a person who has performed his role perfectly would want to try another one. And why, if he was perfect for this one? Blessed are those who have not enough patience and enough courage. Blessed are those who find a way out of the circle of “people who knows me well” to finally get to know themselves.

No one stood by me when I was crying in the middle of the night with my suitcase in my arms. There was no one and at the end of the world, I reach alone and watched the sunset. The precious moment when I felt the happiest, I could ever be. So many times, life has proven that I cannot be the same, and just as many times, no one has believed it.

A person is like a river. The furrow is the same, the water is different. It has tides. And every person stopping at different shores will tell a different story about the same river. It will be frightening, unpredictable, the other will experience it as a reviving, blissful force. Someone will miss her peace. Others will be surprised by the extraordinary power of its current, which destroys everything around it.

The river is the same.

Water is different.

The photo is taken by a friend

Every year, she sees me in a different way.

Every year, she sees me more beautiful than I could ever imagine.

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