When I was younger, I felt like I could learn anything and everything there was about anything that piqued my interest. I was one of the smartest kids in my classes, my curiosity was endless, and my memory was exquisite. I could keep up with everything I needed to in my head.

As I’ve gotten older, there are so many things to keep up with that even planners and phone apps aren’t failsafe. And I’ve learned that no matter how much I could learn about something, I can never know everything there is about it.

Everything that exists is only known in part.

No one knows all there is to know about the intricacies of plant life or what is held within the depths of the ocean or the mysteries of Stone Henge or how artists long passed saw their works.

We can’t see if a piece of plastic that we threw away is one that caused harm to a sea turtle.

What about someone speeding through traffic? We don’t know if the driver is careless or trying to get to work on time or trying to say last goodbyes. Maybe they just watched Talladega Nights or perhaps they overdid the spicy food.

We are always putting together jigsaw puzzles with missing pieces, trying to figure out what we are looking at.

We understand everything in this way.

And, this is how we are understood by others.

No one on the planet fully knows me. I don’t even fully understand myself at times. No one fully knows you, either.

Every person that knows you met you at a specific time in your life. What version of you was that? A decade-old version? How have you grown and changed since then? What did they miss before that?

Some knew me at my lowest and never saw my best. Some met my best but haven’t seen the struggles. Some have seen many different stages of my life, bright and shadowy. Who am I to them? What do they know me as?

Whatever they know me as it will only ever be a part of me.