I'm going to do a bit of my own rambling, if I may. (๑˃‿˂) I'd like to get this off my mind. (๑•﹏•)

One night, I was coming home from the train station. I was heading toward the parking lot when I heard some shouting behind me. I tend to ignore that sort of thing, so I kept walking. 

Seconds later, I felt a hard flick on my arm. "Hey!" Some guy shouts in my face. I don't know this man. Total stranger. 

"Hey!" He shouts again. _I heard you the first time_, I thought to myself. 

We stopped in the sea of human traffic. "Hi?" I said, just to say something. 

"Hey! How you been?!" He says energetically, volume still high.

I racked my brain for a name. Maybe it's a friend's brother, all grown up? A kid I used to babysit? Who the hell is this? I don't know anyone who looks like this. 

"I'm really, really sorry," I said in the most apologetic voice. "I don't recognize you." 

His face lit up. 

I explained that I meet hundreds of people. Sometimes, I don't see them for months. Sometimes they change their hair, or lose weight, and the next time I see them, I don't recognize them. Of course, sometimes it's my bad memory. But I keep that to myself. 

"Aw, it's me! You know, with Ivan! Landscaping! You remember me!? We used to work together!" 

. . . 

I did remember. Of course I did. He was there when I nearly cut my neck with a chainsaw. I remember.

Jeremy. This is Jeremy. 

_This is Jeremy_?! 

Naw. Can't be . . . Can't be, but not many people know my past like that. 

"Uuuh . . . This isn't in a bad way or anything," I said awkwardly. "You look different. I don't recognize you at all." 

He beamed. "Yeah, I got clean, ya know? Don't do those no more. Got a job and everything. I'm goin' back home to give the kids their Christmas presents." 

I looked down at the bags he was carrying. Three bags. 

I offered him a ride home.

It didn't hit me in that moment, but now I understand that triumphant look of not being recognized. I knew Jeremy when he was on drugs. In fact, I _only_ knew him while he was on drugs. 

Whatever he had gone through in the years I didn't see him, my failure in recognizing him must've been validation. He seemed to want to say, "I've changed, see? Changed so much, you don't even recognize me." 

Now, he didn't actually say that. But everything he could squeeze out in that five-minute car ride, his new job, his promotion, about wanting to go back to school, seeing his kids more often, taking care of his parents, there was a lot of pride in that. And I was happy for him. 

We pulled up to his home. I told him how good and healthy he looked, and that I was happy for him. And off he went. 

---

Many, many mornings later, I was out in the front yard at my parents' home. A friendly man walks by.

"Hello," he says. "Hello," I returned, as he walked off. I see he stops at the neighbor's house. I can hear the chatter, but not clearly.

A few moments passed, and the friendly man walks back. 

"Um, 'scuse me? Um, can I git some, um . . . Uh, ne'er mind. Sorry to bother you." 

He seemed nice enough. Kind of shy. "I won't give money, but if it's something I can help with . . ." I said it as kindly as possible, while trying my hardest to sound stern. 

"Thanks. Um . . . I wuz wonderin' if, um, if I can git sum 'luminum." 

I didn't want to assume what it would be for. But maybe the man saw my hesitation. 

"It jus' . . . Yeah. One day, you know, it jus' . . . I dunno. It jus' went, you know, like that," he gesticulated wildly. "Like that, you know wut I'm sayin'?" He stared at me intently, expecting a response. 

Okay. I have a crazy person on my parents' lawn, rambling. I need to get him away as soon as possible. 

Aluminum. Right. He wants aluminum. I told him calmly, "I would, but this is my parents' home, so if they say no, I can't help you. But I'll go check." 

As I turned to leave, I hear him say, "I'm sorry." 

"It's okay," I said, more out of habit. 

But that was enough to give him reassurance. He said quickly, "It jus' happened, you know. One day. . . One day, I wuz bored. An' it jus' happened. I'm sorry . . . It jus' happened." 

Maybe I knew this whole time. Maybe I just didn't want to believe it. 

Scraggly. Thin and pale. Incoherent and desperate. This person I didn't recognize, who recognized me, yet didn't realize I didn't recognize him, was Jeremy. And he was apologizing to me, of all people.

---

It had been a few years since the last time I didn't recognize him. Whatever happened, must've happened quickly. And brutally. 

I don't know what had become of him. I don't know if he ever sought help. I don't know if he's still alive. I haven't seen or heard about him since then. 

Jeremy was not someone I was close to. He was just someone I worked with a few times, until my boss replaced him. I didn't dislike him though. He just wasn't all there when I knew him. But he was nice enough. 

He was just someone I worked with a few times.

And yet, to this day,  I feel something I recognize as guilt. 

If I ever see him again, I will tell him I'm sorry. Though for what, exactly, I'm unsure.