Things feel empty after she's left
Although I struggle to remember her name

Is it her touch I miss?
Her lips against mine?
Was she someone special after all?

Or, simply, that her back was easily fantasised as another's

I don't have my thing
I don't have something I'm good at
A cornerstone in the foundation of my character

I don't have that

When I grew up I guess I was told that everyone needed that something
Person A is good at this thing, but person B shouldn't feel sad because person B is good at that other thing

But what if person C really isn't good at anything?

Now that I reflect upon it, I think I really wanted to find my thing when I grew up
I really did.
I didn't give up because of laziness

But with every thing, I realised that I wasn't good enough
I had some promising starts but I never quite made it the whole way

I guess that I had this idea that when you have your thing it sort of just comes to you
You can't struggle with one of your cornerstones, you struggle with things that aren't your thing

So I never actually got good at anything
And in my pursuit to find my flair
I may just have become the blandest person alive

Once I read about a student.
I think it was in Afghanistan,
who hugged a suicide bomber;
so that they died together.
And no one else had to die.

Sometimes I think that I'd like to do something similar.
To go out in an act of selfless glory.

But I only think that for selfish reasons;
for the undoubtable validation,
that perhaps I was a good person after all.

Today, I read an old letter from an old friend.
I haven't seen her in over two years and we haven't spoken in about just as long.

I have other people that I talk to everyday now, but as things have gotten harder they've felt distant.

My old friend knew what I needed though, she knew how to make me feel better;
she was a good writer.