Losing your best friend is like blowing a hole through your abdomen; there becomes an obvious gaping emptiness in a critical part of your life. The human soul, however, is amazingly resilient. Somehow, rising up from the ashes are old friends, old loves, old passions that become like new to escort you through yet another era of time.
So easily can one be replaced with another that it demands to question the reason for one to have existed in the first place. And even more mysterious, the need for one to exist again. If indeed there be a lapse in time, during which one ceased to exist and yet was not replaced, what would happen then? Would the hole grow ever deeper, consuming all it could grasp except the one it truly needs?
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