You can wear my clothes, mimic my demeanor, or take my name.
You can use my words, as you wish.
But you will never possess the scars that mark my bones; the memories I carve into the back of my mind. You will never feel the pulsating rhythm in my chest, nor my love-hate relationship with my veins. Veins that enrich me and sustain me; twine my fate into my bones but yet suffocate me. You will never hear the voice of my intuition - the compass of my heart.
You can wear my clothes, mimic my demeanor, and take my name. But you will never be me.
You cannot deny that when your hand is placed in mine,
the fortune-telling lines in our palms,