It's again a beautiful morning with blissful coffee. I am eyeing how the mix of orange and yellow sun rays painted the Eiffel Tower golden. With deep breaths, as usual, my mind ran a series of questions like Where am I from? Who am I? What's my name? Still no answers. It's my daily routine to think about myself why? Cause I can't remember anything. Yep, Anterograde amnesia. I always wonder what kind of life I lived before. It's not like I am not happy with my current life, I have everything I want around me like a job, friends, a lover, and all but I always have this hole in my heart like it wanted to be filled. I don't know what am I searching for. I have many good people who love me here but what's the question is they love the real me or the person whom they see or we say the person I portray them to see me as? The truth is, even I don't know the real me. The moment I recovered from a coma four years ago, all I feel is blank, numb, and hollow in my soul. Later, I got to know I w
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