There’s a profound difference between feeling like someone has changed and realizing they’re not the same person you once knew. It’s one thing to cry out, hoping the person you loved will come back, only to find a cold, callous version standing before you. But it’s something entirely different when the truth hits—you’re not just missing who they were, you’re mourning someone who’s essentially gone.
Today, everything feels strange. I’ve come to terms with the fact that the person I thought I knew is, in a way, dead. They aren’t the same, and what’s left is someone completely unfamiliar, someone I can’t reach or recognize. It’s not just a change; it’s like a part of them died, and now someone else entirely inhabits the body I once knew so well.
This realization, though painful, brings a kind of clarity. Sometimes, people change so much that it’s like they’ve become a stranger, and all we can do is acknowledge that loss, even though they’re still physically here. What do you do when the person you’re grieving is still walking around, living a life that no longer includes you? Today, I begin to figure that out.