I had a friend in college who had a way with words and was an activist. But her dream was as a fiction writer, and last I checked in on her she has gotten nowhere with that.
The things she could have accomplished writing nonfiction...
You know how we sometimes don’t talk to childhood friends because they saw a better or more hopeful version of us and it’s too painful to think what the person we were would think of the person we’ve become? Turns out that goes both ways sometimes, and the reason you haven’t heard from them might be that they don’t want to remind you either. It would be cruel, maybe even dishonor the time we had together.
I had a friend in college who had a way with words and was an activist. But her dream was as a fiction writer, and last I checked in on her she has gotten nowhere with that.
The things she could have accomplished writing nonfiction...
You know how we sometimes don’t talk to childhood friends because they saw a better or more hopeful version of us and it’s too painful to think what the person we were would think of the person we’ve become? Turns out that goes both ways sometimes, and the reason you haven’t heard from them might be that they don’t want to remind you either. It would be cruel, maybe even dishonor the time we had together.