Saturday, June 4, 2011

The door opened behind me.

Once a friend opened a pouch, and took out some letter correspondences she had written with a friend.  She wanted to show me and another friend something that the other person had said in the letter...  something funny...

I looked at the page, but my name jumped out at me and I started to read away from the section she was pointing out.  Out of context, it was an incomplete sentence.  It could have multiple meanings.  All meanings that were revealing something.  Something that would have been too personal to say to me directly.

Something I don't want know, something I want to know.

She didn't remember what she had wrote in that correspondence.  She didn't realize I was reading off the paragraph she was pointing out.  She didn't know I could see what I could see.  I felt this overwhelming feeling of trespassing on her most private thoughts.  I felt like someone was trespassing on my thoughts.... Like a door had opened behind me while I turned away to spy on someone.  I got up and pretended to be distracted by something.  I wanted everyone to keep their space.  Because I wanted to keep my space.   Later, my mind was tormented wondering what the rest of the letter had said.  I wished I would have read on.  But, if I would have read on, I would have regretted it,  I think.

[I wish I could credit this photo... source unknown]


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