everythinginthesky:

I have been rebuilding a life, see. Finding scraps of things - friends, hobbies, a job, a girl, clothing. Some scraps need to be found. Some are earned. Some must be pooled together with your hands, like spilled tobacco on a table, and scooped gently into an envelope to be placed on a high shelf.
I wonder, sometimes, if I’m even really me now. If all these scraps are what make up a life, and all have had to be rediscovered, am I still the same person?