I may have seen you. I may have lived with you. I may have laughed with you until tears streamed down my face. I may have spoken with you countless of times. But still, I don’t know your mind. I don’t know what you really think of me. I don’t know what you say when I’m not around. You know what though? You could say the same thing in regards to me. I call you my “friend”, but what is the difference between you and a stranger? That over time I’ve limited you to an idea, a set expectation of what I’ve seen you do repeatedly, who I believe you to be, and I like which is why I “trust” you. The difference between you and a stranger is that it hurts more. It hurts more when you are not the image I have built of you in my mind. And guess what? I am not the image you have built in yours.
