Today, I'm going to start with a question: How well do you know your friends?

Pause for a minute. Think about it.

I'm fond of the theory that we can spend 30 years with someone and not truly know them. We never fully grasp what people are thinking, hiding, or feeling, and as humans, we tend to reveal only parts of ourselves to the world—as we should. Yet, it can be comforting to think, "No, my best friend knows me so well… Better than I know myself." But do they?

Living abroad, I ponder this often.

• How well can my friends here know me if they don't even understand my mother tongue? If I can't express my deepest feelings in the language through which I've learned to interpret the world and myself? How well can they know me if they weren't there for most of my life? If I could completely fabricate my past and they'd likely never realize it?

• Conversely, how well can my friends from Brazil know me if we haven't been together for years? If their only reference points are fragments of the Micael from years ago, social media glimpses, and occasional life updates? Can we claim to know each other because of shared history, or does that become obsolete as people change?

I find myself reflecting on these questions often, feeling that people don't know me as much as they might think (perhaps one reason I started this column). And these thoughts intensified during my holidays.

I always feel apprehensive when returning to Brazil. But this time, It was when I traveled around Sicily with three of my closest friends from there. It wasn't the same. Things had changed. We had changed, each in our own way. But somehow, even though we took completely different paths, we changed for the better. I felt more connected than ever, and the maturity gained over the years enriched our conversations. I don't know if they notice the differences among themselves, since they often spend time together, but I did. And I loved it. I felt deeply connected, despite our distance separation. I was lucky with them.

Maybe I won’t be so lucky with some other friends in the future. It’s part of life. And maybe they don't know me on my bad days, how I am when I wake up, or the dark secrets I choose to keep hidden. But hey, I don't know that much about myself either. There’s always something to discover.

In the end, what we know about our friends is probably everything we need to know about them.

Hope that makes sense.

With love,
Micael.