So what's it like to lose yourself?

Losing yourself is not like losing your credit card. The dozen unseen faces, some half-smiling, some with pursed cigarette lips, some unshaven. The march of departments. The phones of voices a distant crackle away. The explanations. The missing birth date. What is the maiden name of your mother? [A maiden, is that what she was?] Where have you lived. Where are you living now? How did this happen. How did this happen to you? In the end, the feeling in a year driving around in your car and looking out the passing windows, that you are back together again. No. Losing yourself is more like losing your eyes in the face of a lover looking directly through your facade.

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