Long before I met that shy boy with the crooked smile, I realized I’ve always had a gypsy soul. I never really established roots in any place for too long and therefore, I never experienced homesickness. But then I met a broken soul who was more broken than I was. Our broken pieces fit together in ways we never thought possible. He became my home. He became my roots. In these past 5 years since his death, I find myself empty. I’m always searching the sea of faces for him. I’m always searching my surroundings for signs of him. I honestly feel like an abandoned boat out at sea that…