You imagine you run into an acquaintance who asks you how you are, shows genuine concern and interest, and you imagine finally being able to say that:
You've suddenly realized you will never see someone again.
This isn't new information. You know you never actually expected to see them again, but now it really hits home that they will die. They're dying.
And you'll never see them again.
Who doesn't fantasize about reconciliation? About family suddenly not even just accepting you, but embracing you? Wanting to see you, speak to you, know you? Using your real name immediately and naturally, instead of taking 5-10 business days every time you visit, so you know they don't actually think of you as who you are, but are constantly pretending you're still someone you really never were to begin with? But you accept that false acceptance because it's better than nothing. It's better than the family that just pretends you don't exist at all.
Or do they just know you better? Maybe they don't talk to you because they do accept you, they do believe you, and they just hate it. Maybe that honesty is better than the make believe.
What would happen if they did ask to see you before they die? Would you go, would you respond to the wrong name, would you lie with every breath, just so you could see them again one last time? Would pretending be worth it?
You're pretty sure your cat is dying. He's been with you longer than most people. Everyone always thinks it's pitiful when you say your cat is your best friend, but it's true. He's the only one who's stuck around and loved you relentlessly, no matter how many times you wake him up for his insulin shots, or clean his chronic ear infections, or give him his nasal drops for his allergies, or take him to yet another vet appointment. When he realizes you're sitting near him, he still immediately gets up so he can be closer to you. What will you do when he's gone?
He has surgery in a month to remove the growing, potentially cancerous mass in his ear. Maybe he'll be better after that. Or maybe not.
You're terrified he's in constant pain, and that you're not doing him any favors by dragging out his life. You've recently realized you don't know for sure how old he is. The shelter said he was a year old eleven years ago, but how would they actually know? How educated a guess was that?
Do you feel better having said all this to your imaginary, kindly acquaintance? Is this enough? Shouting into a void, heedless of who actually hears and who is hurt by it? Who else is there to talk to? You don't want to upset anyone by dumping your problems on them, so you dump them on the whole world instead?
There's so many people you will never see again. Sometimes you look random people up, just to make sure they're still alive, but you don't speak to them. Sometimes you can't find them anyway. You worry.
You wish you'd had more chances to sit with your grandparents and hear their stories. To know more about their lives, your own history. But you also know they wouldn't have let you into their homes anymore, not if you told them who you really were.
You're an abomination. A sinner. Not a regular sinner, but the kind who "deserves to be shot and left to die in the street like the trash they are."
And yet you regret not knowing them better.
Sometimes you fantasize about showing up on someone's doorstep, forcing them to face you, talk to you, acknowledge your existence. To just tell you why they abandoned you. Make them admit that they never liked you, or that you've turned too far from God, or that they actually just completely forgot about you. Please just tell me which it is.
Would you pretend for them?
You used to have a very unhealthy friendship that you stayed in because you thought it was better than nothing. She was your only friend. She was better than being alone. Right? You knew it was a lie, but it still took years to try to set some boundaries, and then she dropped you and replaced you and never looked back. And you miss her anyway.
Is being alone better?
Your desperation for companionship always seems to land you in trouble, so at this point you barely even try to find it anymore. If someone stopped you and asked you how you were, with genuine interest, you wouldn't actually tell them a damn thing. You can't take the chance they care. What if they just see your desperation, and take advantage of it again? How can you believe anyone?
Do you feel better yet?
It's late.
Go to bed.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.
