I Miss Who I Used to Be

I caught a glimpse of an old photo today — me, laughing so freely that my cheeks hurt. I barely recognized that girl. Somewhere along the way, life piled up: responsibilities, expectations, moments I thought I could skip but shouldn’t.
I miss that me — the one who danced in the rain without thinking about wet shoes, the one who stayed up late writing nonsense just because it felt like freedom. Now, I sometimes feel like a shadow of her, going through the motions, forgetting that joy doesn’t always have to be earned.
But maybe that’s okay. Maybe missing her is a sign that she’s still inside me somewhere, waiting for a little courage, a quiet morning, or a cup of tea to come out again.
So tonight, I’m going to write her a note: “I see you. I remember you. And I won’t let you disappear.”
Maybe tomorrow, I’ll find her again — not in photos, not in memories, but in small, silly, beautiful moments that remind me who I really am.