The Version of Me I Never Become

What happens when the person you miss the most is the person you used to be.

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Looking back in my life, I see a daydreamer kid… who unknowingly knit many cute things with her little palms. A naive kid who had no idea how life was going to take a turn.

The most unexpected turn… where she held no power to complete these cute things. The ones she once found cute are now haunting her… because she abandoned them.

If she knew what was going to happen…

I wonder, if she knew, would she have changed everything?

I forget my old self… I don’t know how I used to be. And a part of me doesn’t even want to know… because that version of me holds too much hope that might kill me if I recall her.

I wonder how she was.

And at the same time, I hope I never find out.

I only remember one thing… that one little girl who wanted to do so many things in her life… she was more ambitious than me.

But somewhere between growing up and surviving, I started leaving pieces of myself behind… every passing year I lost one version of me… but who am I to blame? I never fought for them… I never did. And when I did, I did not have the courage to continue the fight.

The Versions Were Waiting for Me

At this point, I realize… I wasn’t waiting for them to happen, but they were waiting for me to pick them… even a small start.

But me?

As a fool, I was waiting for the right time… that never visited me.

While waiting, I just changed the path… I simply accepted that I never even started.

But these versions haven’t accepted that I abandoned them… how do I face them?

They are still there, living inside me… waiting to be reciprocated.

But I am not even looking at them.

They are slowly dying… in me.

But not anymore, I guess.

Some died… some are still alive…

And the ones that are still alive are still waiting for me.

The Versions I Abandoned

It’s been a long time since I talked about them.

Or let’s say, after a long time, I get this chance to say it out loud… I stopped sharing, but now I can without speaking.

That little girl was so driven by dance… I still laugh sometimes when I remember her moves… they were pretty… fu*ked.

But slowly she improved… she started learning by herself… she danced, she fell, she got up… she danced again.

She was pretty cool because she never accepted defeat.

Back then, she danced freely, anxious-free…

Now she dances to free herself from anxiety.

Back then, dance was a dream.

Now dance is therapy.

Back then, she wanted a stage.

Now she only wants peace.

I never left that version of her… but I miss how she used to dance.

She’s still dancing in an empty room, becoming her own audience.

I see her every day.

Growing up, she loved singing… but life had other plans.

The praise of people made her believe in her voice… and now she barely sings.

And every time she does, her eyes fill with tears…

Back then, songs felt like freedom.

Now they feel like memories.

She misses singing…

And honestly, I miss her too.

She kept moving with a heart full of cracks.

But somewhere along the way, all she wanted was peace.

She found colors when words failed her.

She found peace when noise became too much.

Her paintings were never beautiful.

At least that’s what she believed.

So she stopped.

Funny how life works.

Today, I don’t remember the paintings.

I only remember the girl who loved making them.

If I could speak to her today, I wouldn’t tell her to become great.

I would only ask her not to stop.

Once she wanted to learn guitar…

But the guitar never became music.

It remained a dream sitting quietly in the corner of her mind.

She wanted to become a fighter…

But the battle with her own self never ends.

Her dreams were still there…

She simply spent years convincing herself she didn’t want them anymore.

It hurt to talk about them.

For years, I thought every abandoned dream was proof of failure.

Then life surprised me.

While I was mourning the versions I lost, new versions were quietly being born.

The Versions I Chose

And when I lost my hope to dream completely… I started finding myself.

I always wanted to know myself better but did not know how.

Now I do.

I always saw that ugly face in me…

And at that time?

I started seeing myself differently.

I won’t say that I never saw that ugly face again… I did.

But when you start loving yourself, you always end up calling yourself beautiful.

When you start seeing the beauty inside you, that’s when you stop calling yourself ugly.

I started knowing myself…

I explored myself…

And I fell in love.

With myself.

It’s when I started dreaming again…

Unknowingly.

I never knew I would become a writer…

So here I am, writing this article.

I always wanted to have my own business…

And I am going to do that for sure.

And in the end…

I want to be a model.

And I don’t know if I can ever be.

Not because I am giving up…

But because I will need many permissions.

Funny how I left so many dreams behind… and now I’m living on these three alone.

I just hope I never abandon these versions too.

I hope.

Final Thoughts

Maybe those versions of me never disappeared.

Maybe they were never angry.

Maybe they were simply waiting.

Waiting for me to choose them again.

Because it was never either this or that.

It’s everything together…

Little at a time.