Sometimes, I miss the people in my head.

People who run in philosophic circles sometimes make a big deal out of the question of whether we actually _know_ anything in the world beyond our own perception of it. People you know? Places you're familiar with? They're all just constructs in your mind, even your senses aren't reliable. After a fashion, they're right. It's important not to go too far down this rabbit hole or you may wind up spending years in coffee shops waxing intellectual about the futility of it all until someone kicks you out of your apartment and you realize you should get a job. At some point in your early 20s you should come to the conclusion that whether you're a person or a butterfly dreaming you're a person or a construct in the Matrix, whatever reality may actually be the one you're in requires food and shelter.

Still, it's not entirely a bad idea. We never really know another person, partly because they're so complex. To really know them you'd have to have access to every moment in their lives, first person data on how that affected them and then keep track of every moment of the present as well, including your experiences and how you're affecting them and that just can't be done. We see what people show us. Sometimes we can nudge in around the edges, but that's still pretty much seeing what they show us albeit unintentionally. It's kind of like when someone's pants are unzipped or have tucked their skirt into their underwear.

Every now and again, I'll see something that reminds me of someone I was once fond of. Train tracks are what are doing it for me now, especially the set that Amtrak uses. I think I miss the person I used to ride them to see, but really I miss the version in my head. I miss who he was at the very beginning when everything was promises and potential and neither of us knew where we fit so it could have been anywhere. Anywhere is a really exciting prospect, especially when you've got some ideas and some things you're looking for and they've read the brochure and the *seemed* like they were on board. Sometimes they even are, since the brochure is all they've got to go on and the picture in their head seems just as exciting as the picture in your head so Hell Yes, let's do this thing! It's called New Relationship Energy and it's Nature's way of getting us to breed before we come to our senses. Clever bitch.

Because then you start trying things out and no matter how hard you try it becomes apparent that the picture in your head and the picture in theirs isn't quite the same. Words and ideas get translated differently, your dictionaries aren't the same and the shine begins to show spots of tarnish. Sometimes there's enough solid ground to form a lasting relationship. Sometimes the people you are when you've come to your senses get along pretty well and you figure out where you fit and things are peachy. Sometimes you realize that you didn't really know the person at all and who you are together when you're not trying to impress each other just isn't working out. At times like those I feel like I've got two different people inside my head, the person I wanted them to be and the person they turned out to be. I miss the person I wanted him to be, the person he tried to be but couldn't. I miss the feeling I had when I still had complete faith in his brochure, in his promised potential.

But alas, it turns out all people are people. It turns out that everyone has somewhere they need to go, some things they need to do and a way they need to do it that makes sense for them, and often times those brief mirages of potential were more to tell us about ourselves than someone else. Assuming you're playing fairly they're getting something out of it too, and if you're not playing fairly and they don't tell you to fuck off...well, both of you have issues and I'm not interested in getting in the middle of them.

I know we can't go back, I know we have to learn and move on and have new experiences and make room for the future. I'm not even entirely sure what it is I miss. Maybe it's just a feeling in myself that focused on you but didn't originate there. I wonder if I can create it again, but this time without needing you. I wonder if that was just practice, like training wheels to show me it could be done and what it feels like so i can find that space in myself again and meditate there, find the power in it and figure out where to fit it in the rest of my life. Now that I think about it, there's really no reason not to be as excited and romantically curious about my own future as I was about a shared one.

Teachers sometimes come in the strangest ways....