I'm craving your touch, Somi.

Your touch is fading away from my memory — from my hands, from my body, from my mind. And I can only wonder how these four months have changed us.

It's been four months since I've touched you, and even though your condition is getting better, something feels off.

I can't feel the happiness that I thought I would feel upon hearing that you're recovering.

I hate myself for being this way. I love you, I truly do, but someone is taking over me. It's the same girl I was talking about last time.

I realized that even though her physical features were similar to yours, her personality wasn't.

And she's growing on me.

I hate every second of this feeling: the feeling of starting to feel something about her, especially since it was what I feel for you.

I'm wavering with the wind, and I can't seem to cease this rustle.