Self Therapy.

"Who ae you, this stranger's face in the mirror. If you are me - You seem more, um... mature than I care to remember".

"I'm you, but an extended wiser version whom you refuse to acknowledge".

"What do you mean. Surely the years have not flown by in such a blur without me noticing. You cannot be me - for I do not possess those 'not so subtle' changes and contours on a face which has unquestionably lost its youthful glow".

"Ah, I clearly see your point. But we have weathered quite a few stormy years...and time takes its toll. It does not wait and it can be unkind...you can fight futilely against it - or you can just accept it gracefully".

"Ah yes. Grace. Whomever twinned grace with aging was clearly delusional. That swan swam away long ago...leaving only the wobbly aging duckling".

"Well, at least you have still retained your delightful sense of humor".

"But still...How can you be me, it's like staring at myself in a different dimension. I'm here and somehow, I am also there, but I am so much ... older over there- and yet here, I am a bit sadder".

"Weird, I admit it is a prickly subject for you. But...there has been an anomaly. A ripple in the space time continuum, or some such intellectual explanation".

"So, are you saying we are mirror selves...that I am having a Don Quixote moment - tilting at a form of futuristic windmill, which enables us to communicate across time"?

"Yes, but in this case, you are looking at your past life converging into your present life, from the time across the rift".

“What does that even mean? Is that really me, or you - I'm so confused...not sure of who I am anymore?”

“It’s always been me. You just never listened.”

“I’m listening now. Strange thing, hearing your own voice from… wherever you are.”

“I am reaching out to you from the place you haven’t reached yet, haven't accepted yet. Or the place you left behind. Time folds oddly when you keep charging at illusions.”

“Illusions? I called them quests, challenges, mountains to climb...to conquer.”

“You labeled them antagonists, windmills to achievements.”

“I called them angry, unrelenting giants.”

“Exactly. And you kept running at them with a broomstick.”

“I felt like an errant knight, on a quest of unknown outcome - unsure of where, or what I was tilting towards. The broomstick felt like a crutch, a lance.”

“It felt like denial, going against your inner voice.”

“My inner voice was lost. How can you not understand. If indeed you are me...You’re harsher than I remember.”

“I’m clearer than you were, than you are.”

“True, I existed in a fog. So what are you, then? My future? My past?”

“Both. Neither. I’m the version of you who finally stopped swinging.”

“Stopped? Why would you stop. I haven't perfected my purpose yet. Have you?”

“I stopped - Because I learned the wind doesn’t care about your bravery or purpose.”

“But the giants—”

“Were shadows cast by your own longing, your tilt towards what you thought you needed.”

“You make it sound foolish.”

“It wasn’t foolish. It was beautiful. It kept you alive.”

“Then why do you sound disappointed?”

“Because you mistook survival for destiny.”

“And you didn’t?”

“I outgrew the armor.”

“I liked the armor, it kept me feeling protected from the uncertainties of life.”

“It was heavy, it was unnecessary.”

“It made me feel real. It shielded me from the harsh voices, the dissenting winds, the pain of loss - it wore the scars on the outside of me”

“You were real long before the armor.”

“Then why did I not know it - know that I did not need it?”

“Because you were afraid of being soft.”

“Soft things break, gets mocked, gets trampled on.”

“Soft things bend. Hard things shatter.”

“You talk like a sage.”

“I talk like someone who’s tired.”

“Tired of me?”

“Tired for you.”

“So what now? Do I lay down the lance?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Do you want me to?”

“I want you to see the wind for what it is.”

“An Invisible force?”

“Mostly Indifferent.”

“And the giants?”

“Gone. They were never here.”

“Then what was I fighting?”

“Your own echo, your own shadows and doubts.”

“Like I’m doing now.”

“Exactly like you’re doing now.”

“So this conversation...”

“Is the last windmill.”

“And if I stop?”

“Then I can stop too.”

“And if I keep going?”

“Then we’ll tilt forever.”

“That sounds lonely.”

“It is.”

“Then… I think I’m ready.”

“To stop?”

“To see.”

“Then look.”

“I don’t see anything.”

“Good. That means the giants are gone.”

“And you?”

“I fade when you no longer need me.”

“Wait - don’t go yet.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve never heard my own voice sound so calm.”

“That calm is yours now.”

“Will I remember you?”

“You’ll remember who you became.”

“And who was I?”

“A knight who mistook the direction of the wind...and waged war.”

“And who am I now?”

“Someone who finally knows the difference.”

“Then… this is goodbye?”

“Goodbye, my brave and weary Quixote.”

“Goodbye, my wiser self.”

“I am ready to begin.”