All Mine

We shared a body once.

You probably remember it more vividly than I do.  It was that time when I was growing inside you... you know, after someone siphoned sperm into your vaginal canal.  The details of where the sperm came from is important, but not for this conversation.  This.  This conversation is about you. And me.

You allowed me to stay in your body.  Every time you fed you, you fed me.  We ate the same things, drank the same things, smoked the same things.  I was a captive audience, a fish in a bowl submerged in your stress and joy.

Ya feel me?  I literally felt you.

Umbilical cord. Connection. The ties that bind.

That tie was cut the day I was born.

Yet here we are - me a 20-something, 30-something, 40-something. You a 40-something, 50 something, 60 something, 70 something, and I still wonder.

Are your pitfalls destined to be my pitfalls?

Did I inherit your Achilles' Heel?

I forget and then remember:

I am not you.

I never have been.

And never will be.

My soul is mine and mine alone.

We shared a body once.