There was a version of me who laughed without looking around first. She danced in front of mirrors, not for attention, but just to feel alive.
She wasn’t perfect. She cried easily and trusted too much. But she believed in small things like postcards, birthday wishes, and people staying. I loved her in the way you love sunlight on your face in the winter. She wore her heart openly and gave more kindness than she had to spare.
But life asked me to change. To tuck my softness in. To be careful, quiet, steady. I learned how to leave before being left. How to lower my voice. How to shrink my dreams.
She didn’t leave suddenly. She just faded. Still there if I look hard enough, but not quite real anymore. I miss her, when I hear songs she would’ve screamed. When someone calls me brave and I remember how easy she made it look.
People talk about the ones who got away like they’re someone else. But what if it’s the you before the world told you to be someone else? The you who felt too much and never apologized for it.
I hope she’s still somewhere inside me. I hope she knows I didn’t want to leave her behind. I was just trying to survive.
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