My first was afraid of seventy percent of this planet. He did not like the unknown.

My second was afraid of disapproval. He did not like to fail.

My third relishes exploration and smiles when waves kiss sand. She rolls her eyes at frowns and challenges the normalities of everything in her ability.

My first was fond of red, a claret color as deep as Bordeaux wine. 

My second was partial to blue, a simple shade as plain as the sky.

My third admires purple, a passionate pigment as bold as she is. 

My first lasted one month.

My second lasted seventeen months.

My third will last the rest of my life.

I am my third.

I am her.