There’s Nothing Like Having Lunch With an Old Boyfriend, To Bust Your Self Delusions

How we view ourselves is often different from how others remember us

Sandi Parsons
Inspired Writer

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Image by Long Nguyen from Pixabay

Will there be an uncomfortable silence?

Would we have anything to talk about? Would the past sit like an elephant in the room? Perhaps the only thing we had in common now was that we survived.

My worries were unnecessary. From the moment we both sat down, twenty-nine years disappeared in the blink of an eye. We weren’t teenagers anymore, chatting awkwardly after bumping into each other after our bust-up. We’d both moved beyond that.

Now, our shared memories created a bond, and it was easy to laugh again.

Ian started, “Do you remember —”

My true self, the one I always aspire to be, was the reckless, out-of-control person I was at nineteen. Because fuck, did she live.

At nineteen, I didn’t have a worry or care because I was going to die. My death sentence from winning the genetic lottery was a foregone conclusion. From guidance counselors to medical staff, everyone liked to ram my looming expiry date down my throat.

I could have dismissed that narrative and turned a blind eye. But I couldn’t ignore the revolving…

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Sandi Parsons
Inspired Writer

Sandi Parsons lives & breathes stories as a reader, writer, and storyteller📚 Kidlit specialist, dipping her toes in the big kid’s pool.