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What the fuck happened to passion. What happened to the excitement of everything, the newness in the moments? When did it all stop, where did it all go. Its been this way for so long I can't even identify when I fell over the cliff but I know I fell. But in falling I don't even recall if I reached out to catch the leg, did I tumble or slide. There no signs of scraped knees, no cuts and bruises, but I know I fell. I can feel the hurt. Even though I don't remember, I can sense the scars. The vast canyon that was created in my soul when there's no one there to pull you up, when there's no one there to light the way, when there is no one to look for you. When you are just looking for yourself, but the reflection in the mirror isn't even the same.

 Oh God, who is she?!

 ...and then you think...

  What the fuck happened to passion?

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