I know now that I can’t actually really know someone.
I think I know them but then they don’t understand me, I don’t understand them and all that’s left is silence. Nothing.
I stood there, no words could come out of me. Because of the nothing.
In that moment there was nothing. We stood there looking into each other’s eyes but I saw nothing. I had just a vague memory and no hope. But in the present there was nothing to say nothing to do, nowhere to move. I felt like my body imprisoned me, I felt like nothing I would do or say would mean anything. So I stood there. Nothing.
Only later I felt something. The moments of guilt and regret replaced the moments of sadness.
But those were just moments, the underlying numbness I feel is like a still water. Like it was my nature. But there’s always something missing. Something that would give that water direction. Some unknown force that gives you the sense of knowing. The sense of understanding. Understanding the heart and knowing other hearts.
But I’m on my way. It’s me who can change that. It’s me who has the power to move the water and create a stream. But until I get there, I know I can’t really know anyone. And that’s all right.