I knew I would never be the same. How can you mature with someone as one heart, and then be completely apart, without depressing pain?
I have surely lost the essence of myself as I grow older. I have already lost the love of my life, twice, causing my blood to run colder.
Now I see the cycle repeating with others: more of my will decaying with their more rapid departures.
What you see before you is a soul stripped bare: my gender an expression of my life without a care.
A rare smile is strained. My hair is chopped off. My skin color is drained. My grasp feels soft.
Do you see what is missing? I have tried to find myself, but I can’t replace the one I miss kissing.
Everything I am is a reference to a memory. All that’s left of me is one half of a pair that used to be.