… but it didn’t kill me. In fact, I’m not sure what to feel—or if I feel anything at all.
I found someone from my past online. I was testing out some of the people search engines listed here, and, for some vacuous reason, I ended up searching for one individual from whom I’ve distanced myself for years. There was a very good reason to never seek this person out or try even be acquaintances with them. The simple strategy of “move along, move along” has worked very well so far. But of course, as is the norm, my curiosity won out over my good sense.
Seeing someone’s website or profile is no big deal in itself. It’s not as if I ran into this person at the store and had to figure out a way to duck for cover amongst racks of clothes or a display of navel oranges. I simply saw the picture and I knew. It was quite uneventful; but after 6 years, it made a sickening thud in the pit of my stomach.
Of course, no part of me even daydreams about getting in touch with this person. Even so, I couldn’t stop myself from looking at photographs and taking stock of any information I could glean. This person will never know I snooped… but I know.
They probably don’t even think of me now. I suppose that’s comforting. Still, the old pain, the hurt voice that lives caged in a dark part of my mind speaks to me. If I don’t quiet it, it will convince me to hate someone whom I chose to forgive years ago. The part of me that never received justice suddenly aches for them to feel pain when they remember who I am and what they did. But what if they don’t remember? What if they felt horribly and dealt with it on their own? Then I’m alone in this battle, and fighting it would be pointless. My chance for justice has been long lost. It’s now (and forever has been) my choice to move on and realize that the only pain I have now is because of my determination to keep score.
Closing that page, that window into my past, was unspeakably satisfying.