It all started when I loaned him my scarf. I had two, and he was always cold in winter, so I gave him the plaid one I didn't like very much. From there he started borrowing gloves, and mittens, and when he lost the plaid scarf he took my blue one that said the name of my old lover's college on it. He helped himself to pencils and CDs and he lost absolutely everything, but I never paid any mind, our lives were so intertwined.

I never got much of it back, and now I can't find anything anymore.

And now I've given you pieces of my heart. They aren't as warm as a scarf, but they're still more dear to me. And the order in my life has disappeared just as quickly as it did when I was loaning him things, and giving him bits of my possessions.

It doesn't seem to matter what you give away. It all ends up the same. You never get it back. You just buy new mittens and grow new pieces to replace the appendages you've lost, wondering all the while where the old ones have gone, hoping whoever took them cares about them as much as you did back before you gave them away.

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