I Am the Same
It wasn't a matter of what changed. It was more along the lines of who I left behind. Seeming more like a phantom in the distance, shrouded in a mist of sweet smelling memories. Not as much a part of me as it was another ‘me’. Not as far away as past but far enough to look a stranger. Not that I'd look back, or forward it seems, since a face as calm and collected as that would bring me back to tears. “For shame,” some did say, “You poor thing. You'll never be the same.” But I am the same. Or perhaps a clone, better described as a replica with similar arms and legs and curvature and teeth and eyes. A perfect model, hollow within, just in case it tried to come alive. Although at times it feels to me that I ought to forget I had a name, and take on the role of the reanimated corpse, a monster who prowls and roams with little to call his own. No name for me, no name for her. We were just figurines bent this way and that, warped into awkward dimensions that lef...