Peeping Tom.

It’s hard to describe how it feels to be a peeping tom. To be peering into someone’s life; seeing her intimate and most raw and open and personal moments.

There’s something weird, odd, unsettling about watching her go through such hard times – divorce, moving, heartbreak. And at the same time to be experiencing such satisfaction and accomplishment. I don’t know her well. At all, to be truthful. But I worry about her. I hurt for her.

I feel maternal. I don’t want to intrude – to tell her it’s going to be okay. I don’t want to tell her that choosing the ocean view sounds better to me. I don’t want to tell her that I’m so glad she has such wonderful friends to support her. Or that I admire her strength and that, even though I have no real right to, I’m really proud of her.

I met her a year ago and knew her for 6 days. But she had an impact on me. Her spirit. Her fragility. Her immense strength. I really don’t know her at all but she sits in my thoughts.

I want to comment on her status updates and tell her I have faith in her. I want to tell her to be strong.

But I know she will be anyway.