I Miss the Old Me

Lately, I’ve been missing someone I used to know me.

I miss the old me. The me that used to laugh so easily, the one who could walk into a room and light it up without even trying. The me who found happiness in the smallest things a song, a good morning text, the smell of rain, or the warmth of the sun on my skin. I miss the way I used to smile not the kind of smile I force now to make it seem like I’m okay, but the real one that came from deep inside, the kind that made my eyes glow.

I don’t know when I started to fade. Maybe it was little by little pieces of me slipping away through heartbreak, disappointment, and loss. Maybe it happened all at once, like the world just shifted and I got left behind. All I know is that one day I woke up, looked in the mirror, and realized… I didn’t recognize myself anymore.

Now I carry sadness in places that used to hold joy. My laughter feels quieter. My eyes don’t shine the same. I cry more than I admit, and sometimes, I don’t even know why. I just feel this deep ache like something’s missing. And what’s missing… is me.

I miss the way I used to care so freely, love so deeply, and believe in the good in people. I miss being the kind of person who didn’t always expect the worst. The kind of person who didn’t have to fight to feel okay.

It hurts when you realize that the version of yourself you loved most isn’t here anymore. It’s like mourning someone who never really left because I’m still here, breathing, living, doing the things I need to do. But emotionally? I feel gone.

And sometimes I wonder can I ever get her back? The girl who dreamed big, who believed in herself, who didn’t let pain harden her heart. I want to find her again. I want to feel that light, that peace, that joy that once came so naturally.

But maybe… maybe she’s not lost. Maybe she’s just buried under all the things life threw at me the heartbreaks, the disappointments, the moments that broke my spirit. Maybe she’s waiting for me to slow down, to breathe, to remember what it’s like to truly live again.

I think about her a lot. The old me.

And I hope one day, I can look in the mirror and see her again even if she’s changed. Even if she’s stronger, softer, and more guarded now. Because maybe the old me had the light… but the new me is learning how to survive in the dark.

And that, I guess, is something to hold on to.

I miss the old me but maybe, just maybe, she’s still here, waiting for me to come back home.

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