Estrangement

There is a difference between a stranger and being estranged, though they seem the same outwardly. And share a linguistic root.

When you are estranged, you still know how they take their coffee, two creams, no sugar. You know their drink is Rum and Cola, you know how their nose crinkles up just before they laugh. You know where their scars are and how they broke their arm falling out of a tree at seven years old. Maybe you know what they hate about themselves, and what they are proud of.

But somehow all of that recedes in light of what they did to you, or what they became. Or maybe it was you, maybe both. The one big thing or 500 little things that caused an un-fordable rift.

And there is grief in that, no matter how necessary the split. Grief for what could have been. For what they once were to you. The death of a relationship is still a death.

On the other hand--a stranger. Pure potentiality. Will they become a dear friend? A lover? A fun person to hang out with? An ally? An enemy? Or will you just pass each other like two birds flying in opposite directions?

A stranger is all about what could be. An estrangement all about what can never be. Think of the phrase “dead to me” even though you know they are out there somewhere.

Same linguistic root, but they are not even close.

This site is entirely reader supported, never a paywall. Please consider subscribing, free or paid. And if you can, consider a one time contribution by clicking here:
https://buymeacoffee.com/annabelascher