junecleavage

I look at old photographs and I don't recognize myself. I look in the mirror and sometimes don't find familiar. I look at the smiles of those beside me - I don't even remember the sound of their voice - or why we were smiling - who we were then - who we are now. It feels like someone I was once close to but left behind. It feels like memories from a movie I saw. It feels like a dream, with remnants of vague reality. It feels sad and lost. We sure laughed a lot - once. In warm early morning moments of groups of friends and bar doors closing behind us - we sure made each other laugh out loud. Some of them I just cannot know anymore - but -once - they were a part of me. Why do I shed friends like skin? Like the places I love or the stars that I reach for. Why do they all become pictures in photo albums? Like leaves falling on a still lake in Autumn...rippling the surface so slightly you might not even notice if you were only passing by.

(found the above today - a journal entry of mine from Feb, 17, 1998)