I was reminded of my past last night. I saw old acquaintances who were once close enough to be called friends. It’s not that I do not value the time we spent together, it’s not that I regret knowing them. I guess this is what they mean when they say “it’s not you, it’s me.”


I do not want to look back at the old me. It makes me cringe, makes me want to give myself a double b*t*h slap. I was a know it all, an extremely hyperactive nineteen year old who only thinks of herself. I was a selfish brat who made her already sick parents miserable and an attention-seeking girl with low self-esteem who would do extreme things just to be accepted. I thought having a loud mouth and speaking foul language was really cool. I thought drinking a lot and smoking one stick after the other will make me earn respect from my peers. Aaaaarrggggghhhhh!!!! I can’t believe that I was like this.

I feel sorry for my old comrades, they seem genuinely happy to see me, but I can’t say the same about them. I don’t hate them, I just hate the me that they used to know.

They remind me of that phase in my life that I do not wish to remember.


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