Everyone has different versions of themselves.
The me I was when I was a teenager – so rebellious and careless – doesn’t really exist anymore…
…except parts of her are still me, resisting authority at all costs.
The me I was at ten – so depressed and filled with worries beyond my years – also doesn’t exist anymore…
…yet she still hides away in my innermost recesses, creeping out when it’s least convenient.
The me I was at twenty – so optimistic and eager to please – also doesn’t exist anymore…
…but she makes an appearance when I can’t let go of my unrealistic hopes.
The me I was four years ago – dead inside and merely existing, like a ghost – haunts my day to day in the fear that she will reemerge…
…as all it would take is one slip to return me to her.
What I’m trying to say is that I’ve always been myself; good, bad, ugly, beautiful, fearful, courageous, depressed, hopeful, passionate, listless. Who I’ve been more of at one time or another is part of my growth into who I am today.
No guarantees about who I will be tomorrow.
Me today.
- – -
Participating in Finish the Sentence Friday, with the prompt, “I wasn’t really myself when I…”
