After years of absence I feel like I’m finally coming back to myself, returning to the stranger that possessed my body for years and years and years and evicting him forcibly. Nothing seemed to feel right, nothing I read, nothing I wrote, nothing I did. But opening up the past seems to be just the elixir needed to reclaim my body. I miss the old uniforms, the knee-high boots, the fishnets, the coats, the yearnings, the lusts, the visions from heaven, the fantasies, the commingled scents from other boys filled with the desperation from isolation. The memories remain, hollowed chrysalis husks that crumble to the touch, mere ephemera that disintegrates in the wind.