there are pieces of me that no one sees. and yet, mostly, i'm an open book.
i'm just me, whether with mom or family or friends or at work or in line at the grocery store.
but i'm full of pieces, and not everyone gets to see all the pieces all the time.
i'm fun and funny and flirty and happy and sad and scared and nervous and anxious and oblivious and connected and observant. sometimes i'm all of these things at once, sometimes i'm one or the other or some combination. but they're all me.
i've never had to deliberately hold back any piece of myself before, but i find myself doing it in this situation. because a friend who was once a friend but is now more of an acquaintance gets only the sounding board me. i don't volunteer much of anything. on the rare occasions i'm asked something specific, i don't lie, but i don't go into details. she doesn't get that any more. and the sad thing is, she doesn't even realize it, and i don't think she cares, which is why she doesn't get that any more.
i don't normally think about it, but today it just sorta popped into my head, these pieces of me, and i had to get it out.
so, there ya go.
you, dear readers, get more pieces of me than someone i've known for 20 years. and i'm okay with that.