I saw this postcard today on Postsecret.com. I wait patiently until Sunday morning to see new and fresh postcards. Some are sad, some funny, others are insightful and I may connect with the words written or printed on the back of the anonymous card.
Today this card spoke caught my eye. I know it's not from her. After 25 years, I'd recognize her handwriting anywhere. For an instant though, I thought it could be. As I read the message scrawled on the back of this card I realized there are so many inaccuracies written inside. If it were from her, she didn't lose me. She purposely left me sitting on a corner bench wondering what the hell happened. If I were very important to her, she'd have found the ability to talk to me before things broke. Lastly, I do know how to contact her but I no longer want to. I'm not lost anymore and I'm no longer her friend, best or otherwise.
Today this card spoke caught my eye. I know it's not from her. After 25 years, I'd recognize her handwriting anywhere. For an instant though, I thought it could be. As I read the message scrawled on the back of this card I realized there are so many inaccuracies written inside. If it were from her, she didn't lose me. She purposely left me sitting on a corner bench wondering what the hell happened. If I were very important to her, she'd have found the ability to talk to me before things broke. Lastly, I do know how to contact her but I no longer want to. I'm not lost anymore and I'm no longer her friend, best or otherwise.
In some ways I owe this person out there in the ethos some gratitude. I've wondered what I would do if she wrote to me or tried to contact me. I have an answer.
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