Planters Anyone?

We sat awkwardly in silence, less than five feet from each other. I wished I had a bag of peanuts to feed the elephant in the room. We had grown apart. I wasn’t the same person, and who I was didn’t fit with us anymore. I was sad, because I didn’t notice it happen. It wasn’t all at once, it was a gradual progression over time, and us being apart made that progression even harder to notice. But now, here we were, both looking anywhere but in each other’s eyes. I hadn’t changed on purpose, it just happened from circumstance, and I wondered why the person I was now couldn’t fit with us. A funny thought popped into my head. We had outgrown each other, like children outgrow clothes. But no one is meant to wear the same clothes forever, but these weren’t clothes. They were people. What do you do when you outgrow people? And me, I seem to grow like a weed, so what do I do about it? I think I grow because I’m giant. More giant than most people can handle, so when I get bigger, they tend to get smaller. They get smaller, then they try to look down on me. But how do you look down on a giant? And what if we’re both giants, but we just don’t fit anymore? That’s what was happening here. We were both giants, so neither one of us could look down on the other, but we just didn’t fit anymore. I hoped one day we would grow some more and fit again, but for now, all I could do was sit in silence and wish for a bag of peanuts.