I sat in front of the mirror and carefully stared into my own eyes, analyzing their clear green shade. I slowly combed my long black hair, observing their every strand. Those are my features now, but I can still remember a time long ago when a face stared back at me from the mirror with brown hair and eyes as black as night. I'll have them back... someday.

Back then, I hardly ever wondered what my life would lead to. I didn't have a clue and just left it at that. I still don't know, but time has taught me to look in the past to find the future. I'm finally starting to do that. I'm finally daring to analyze what happened to me so long ago. I realize my words and thoughts may not make much sense at this point. Maybe they won't ever make sense. But besides trying to put all the pieces together, there is little or nothing I can do.

Thinking back now, I realize I never asked her how long she'd waited before she found me. Before it found me. Now it's my turn. I must confess, though, that I seem to lack her ease, her acceptance of the wait. Or maybe I just assumed she was that way. I could have misjudged her. After 435 years of waiting, I feel forgotten, tired. And alone, always alone. I would settle for someone to talk to without worrying about their thoughts, their questions, their answers... I've found it painful to have friends. Eventually, as time passes, they grow old, and I have to leave. I wonder if she felt this way. I wonder if she was ever lonely.

I still remember the first time I saw her. On that night, my fate was sealed, and the only choice I had left to make was taken from me in a matter of seconds. But bitterness is worthless. I know my having been given a choice would have changed nothing. From that day forth, nothing would have been the same, no matter what I said or did.