Understanding and Accepting Aren't the Same...but Close.

Every morning, I wake up and wonder where you are. Where you've gone. Are you happy there? What are you feeling right now?

The better question to ask, I suppose... Do they let you feel at all?

Do you smile in the morning, when you see something beautiful? Do you stand in front of the mirror and stare at your hair and sigh? You got lucky. You didn't inherit the curls and waves like I did...

No, you were always perfect. I miss that now.

What do you eat for breakfast? Toast? Do you cook? I know you were always good at cooking... Do you go to class anymore? Grab a purse--no, wait, a backpack, that's more like you--and head for school? Fill your notebooks with doodles and curly-cues?

I do.

Does anything bother you during the day? Do we cross your mind? Can you feel me thinking about you? I hope so, because I do. All the time.

Does he know your favorite color? Favorite animal? Favorite pastime? Part of me hopes he does, so that you two have something to talk about.

Where do you go for lunch? Who do you eat with? Do you smile, giggle, laugh? Are you allowed to do that?

What about dinner? Big family production? Lots of food, probably all things you could prepare... I can see it. I see it in my head, all the time.

Do you work? Do you play? Do you cry? Do you sing?

I ask because I miss you. I ask because I want things to be whole again. I ask because you were once a part of this puzzle, a puzzle I don't fit into very well. Not well at all, actually. I can't fill your gap--I'm the wrong size, wrong shape, wrong colors, wrong piece.

I ask because...well, because, for the first time in a long time, I'm starting to see you in a different light. A multi-faceted puzzle piece, with something on the other side. Something you kept hidden, to keep from being different.

Well, I'm different too. I just wish there were someone else around to be different with me.