Let The Old Self Die So You Can Be Reborn

Letting go of the person we used to be

Photo by Heiner from Pexels

I don’t know her anymore. Strange, she used to be me. We did so many things, spent so much time together. We laughed, we cried, we walked down moonlit paths at night planning the future we will share together, the dreams we will build. But it’s all gone now.

I no longer recognize the person, let alone talk about old times. I can’t appreciate the things we had in common or relate to what used to lighten her day. It’s like swimming against the tide that saps my energy. I refuse to put in the effort.

I walked around headless in a body that has forgotten how it arrived here. Every day, perfunctorily, I assembled and prepped her for another round of folie à deux. Slowly but surely I fall away, leaving bits and pieces of myself inside a pre-designed structure going through the barely functioning motions of life.

I visited familiar places, met up with old friends, thinking that we still have something together. I was wrong. The spark has gone. They don’t recognize me, claiming that I’ve changed, that I’m not like before. Everything feels foreign, even the memories do not carry with it the joy and the fun that once was.

I can’t talk about the old times because the old me is not present to reminisce about the days…