Nothing feels like it used to. This city that I both love and hate does not feel like it used to. This language that I was taught to speak by my blood doesn’t sit on my tongue as effortlessly as it used to. The people seem alien. The smell on my skin is not mine, but entirely yours. My lips don’t feel like my own. My hands feel lost, bereft of the ability to run them through your hair, to trace the contours of you and to hold your hand the right way. Hell even my bed doesn’t seem my own! Everything I touch, feel and see does not feel familiar. My eyes search the four walls of this house and find no kinship. I feel weird like the jigsaw puzzle pieces of my life were not put back in the manner that they used to be in.