Lately I've been finding fragments of how I feel in other people's work, in pictures, in tiny little pieces of somebody else's mind. I've been trying to find the words, and my voice to go with it. It's just, I'm having a hard time with my voice. I think I've found the words, though. But it gets frustrating, believe me.
I have known longing, the kind that leaves you aching for something out of reach. I have known love, the kind that breaks you into pieces but doesn't quite mend you back. But this, this is new, not in the I've-only-found-this-feeling-sometime-ago new. This is the familiar-but-quite-different new. The one that makes you think of something and makes you want to blurt it out but makes it stuck at the tip of your tongue. You kind of know it, but then you kind of don't.
Sometimes I think about how fast everything came. How sudden the change was from little girl lost to I think I've been found. It is happening still. I've been finding pieces of myself that I didn't know was there. And each piece surprises me. And I hope to find pieces of you as well, pieces that I wouldn't have known or will ever know if not for this.
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