Sometimes, I think of all the people I’ve lost or grew apart from and wonder what they would think if they saw me or knew me now, given how much time has passed and how much things have changed.
Would we still be friends? Would we argue over the same things? Would we be kinder, at the very least?
Then I remember that I lost those people for a reason. There’s a masochistic (probably narcissistic) urge to want them back in my life perhaps just to be able to say “Look, I’m better now. Look, I didn’t need you with me all along.”