Missing.

I honestly believe there's a part of you that lingers in those closest to you; a part that will always remain missing, until you meet again.

Some say absence makes the heart fonder, the passage of time brushing away the little imperfections that grate on you when you're in constant, close contact. I say the cliche is true - nobody's perfect, and we can only decide what we notice, what we remember, and what we hold important.

I think I've only become more of a softie than the one I used to be years ago.

How ah, how. Becoming an old man already, leh.