I’m starting to lose track of where one version of me ends and another begins. The lines between them aren’t clear. They blur, overlap, and repeat. These faces don’t feel like reflections. They feel like leftovers. They feel like pieces that didn’t come back together. I recognize something in all of them, but not enough to say any of them is fully me. It’s like there was never one stable version to begin with. The ink is getting heavier. The shadows don’t seem to get enough. These faces… what’s left of a self that chose to fall apart.
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