He’s just…different, now.
Different? Like, good or bad?
Different doesn’t always have to mean bad or good. Just…different.
Well, how is he different?
It’s difficult to explain. Speaking with him brings forth the disconcerting thought that he would rather be with someone else, someplace else, but not in a rude way. I cannot be certain if this new aloof nature of his is legitimate or his way of keeping himself from investing into anything.
What do you mean, investing?
I have a feeling that somewhere down the road, he gave so much, too much, to someone that took it all and left him with nothing. Ever since then, he keeps himself from investing too much, into anyone or anything. It’s incredibly subtle, that feeling you get when you are with him, but you can tell that he is withholding his whole attention.
Well, if he’s rude I certainly don’t want to be around that.
That’s just it. He isn’t rude, it’s as if he simply doesn’t care. Almost as if he is privy to some great secret that he keeps quietly to himself while the rest of us scurry around and worrying about how nice our hair looks or what cars we drive or how big our houses are. There is a sort of refreshing feeling about him, as if he knows that none of our earthly problems mean a damn because, to him, in the end they never do.
That’s awfully morbid.
Is it, though? I mean, they say you can’t take it with you, right? Maybe we just cannot see the colossal waste of energy to live anyone else’s life but our own. All this comparing and competition, all for what? Your plot of land is gonna be the same size as everyone else’s. Perhaps he has just accepted it earlier than the rest of us. I think that may be another reason as to why I can’t shake the feeling he’d rather be somewhere else; maybe he cannot stand to be around such short-sighted people.
Well, I can’t say I’d be wanting to see much of him after hearing what you’ve said. Maybe he should just stay out in the wilds if he hates being around us idiots.
I honestly think he would if he could. There is a serene grace when you are next to him; almost as if you were up amidst the peaks that he climbs. He puts such an incredible distance between yourself and your problem that you almost feel foolish for even believing it mattered at all. I almost believe he waits until you come to that realization because the smile he has on his face when you understand is unlike any smile I’ve ever seen. Full of knowing, in a sense. Like, oh, now you get it. I can’t say I know very many people like that.
When was the last time you spoke to him?
Oh, it’s been months, for certain. But, that is how it is with him. You can go months at a time with nothing as far as communication but, when you do finally see him, it is as if no time at all has passed and he is just as warm as ever. I worry about him, though.
Worry? What for?
He spends so much time up on that mountain. Amidst the trees and the hills and the rocks. He told me once that he always felt like he left a little bit of himself every time he left and he wondered when he would come back down to find that he was no longer himself. I think someone once said that whoever delights in solitude is either a wild beast or a god, but I cannot remember who.
I would hardly think him a god.
No, neither would I. Nor a beast, I would think. Just…something different.