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When you hit 100, then you really know it. By then, everyone you've ever known in your mortal life is dead. All those connections that you could have reached out to if you wanted to risk? All gone. (Don't do it, by the way. Quickest way to get them and yourself killed.)
My family is just... names in a book, stored on a website, or carved on a wood beam under a Chinese restaurant. I can't remember their faces, their voices. There's just scattered pieces.
I'm not saying you haven't experienced a similar feeling. It's just [...] different. At some point, it just becomes easier to let go of your humanity than fight for it but I refuse to lose.