I miss my old self—the person who believed in endless possibilities, who laughed without hesitation, and who faced each day with quiet confidence. Somewhere along the way, that version of me got lost in the noise of disappointment, fear, and the weight of expectations. I miss the simplicity of hope and the courage to dream without doubt. It hurts to feel like I’ve changed into someone who second-guesses every step, who hides behind walls built from past hurts, and who wonders if she’ll ever feel whole again. Sometimes I find myself longing for those moments when life felt lighter, before the pain carved deep lines in my heart. I miss the old me who wasn’t afraid to be vulnerable, who trusted people without reservations, and who found beauty in small things. It’s hard to accept that time moves forward, yet I can’t help wishing I could rewind just to remind her she’s still here, buried beneath the scars and silence. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully find her again, but I hope that one day, I’ll learn to embrace both who I was and who I’m becoming.