Hi. It’s me. I didn’t want to say all this to your face so I’m writing it down, I hope that doesn’t seem cowardly but I don’t know how you’re going to react because frankly I feel like you’re obsessed, and it’s weird.
Remember when we first met? A long long time ago, lol. Sorry. I’ll try and be serious. You know me, I like to throw a little humour in. That’s one of the things you said made it love at first sight. But I’m not who I was thirty years ago and neither are you. I feel like only one of us has moved on.
I’ve tried (because yes, there is a ‘try’) to mature, to develop, to discover who I am and share all that with you but you rejected the new me. You said it was a betrayal to you. You even accused me of not being true to myself, but it’s all ME. I can’t be anything but true to myself. You meant true to your ideal me, and I was never going to live up to those standards, they’re too muddled with your feelings about your own youth, that first flush of discovery, the adventure we went on together. But that adventure was of it’s time. We were both young.
And to be brutally honest, I got too big. I’m massive. I no longer like myself. It’s why I keep trying to change the way I look, to make ME happy, but you just complain.
I don’t mind that people laugh at us, please don’t think I’m ashamed of you. But your obsession with me is distracting you from other things you might like. You still have pictures of me on your wall, for goodness sake! And those little figurines…I’m flattered but I feel stifled, like the plastic box is a metaphor for you smothering me. You want to preserve me, to suspend me and yourself in time. I’ve always been your escape from the real world but your constant shoehorning me into unrelated topics, your insistence on comparing others to me, is unhealthy.
It’s time, baby. You love me? I know. But I think you should see other films.
Image by dcturner