There are things that seem real, even when they are fake. The fiction soon makes up your own reality, and it is impossible not to notice where it came from. Little dramas rule your life - and that is how you see new truths. Where did it go? The part you knew. It somehow faded away in all the confusion. Shied away when you weren't looking. And now there is nothing more that defines you except your observations - mindless observations that you take on to build a new persona. Should you run away from the being that lost you? Should you go out and find it? How easy is she to find? You say it's too hard - you're gutless. Everytime, it all comes down to what's become more familiar. So the old you is gone! So the one you liked has dissapeared in the delirium. Which would you rather have? You've lost one already - what sense does it make to leave another to search for the old person that might not exist? Compromise. Excuses. Who knows if you'll ever find her. Why even try? Perhaps the new you is what they want. It's all they seem to have sometimes. But you're still jealous of the untouched ones. The ones who seem to be everything you've tried to be...so you cling to them like a hungry spider. A merciful spider who wants to shed the external appearance and become what it feels inside. What is lost has not been lost. The lost has been hidden. And it's much easier than you think. She's so easy to bring back. Will she be all you expected? Will she be all you remember?