For a long moment, I stared at the face in the picture, almost as though I didn’t know who he was. I’d found a pack of photos — old-fashioned prints from a drug store — that an old girlfriend had taken of me about 15 years ago.
Oddly, I can’t even remember the woman’s name, but I felt a sudden rush of empathy for my old self — as the face brought back to me where I was in life at that time and what I still had to go through.
I was terribly unhappy at the time. I knew something had gone horribly wrong in my life — going all the way back to childhood — but I had no idea what it was. I was emotionally drifting and desperate for answers.
I had gone through a “friendly divorce” about three years prior to this, but I didn’t know where I needed to go in life. All of the things which had once mattered to me had turned to sand. I was drifting and looking for a way to find meaning again.
We’re neither friends nor enemies, just strangers who share the past
Society needs storytellers to help make sense of a changing world
My bad teen poetry suggests I’ve always hungered for missing love