Reliving the pain...

I wanted to see it all, the pieces of my life that I've slowly gotten used to, the pieces that I had suffered over and then written in this blog. I wanted to see who she was, that person from four years ago. We're not the same person, we never could have been. She and I are two different people now, and though we share a past, memories, and scars, we are different. I was reading one of my posts, reading one of the sadder ones, the ones that feel empty and lost in depravity. One that seemed hopeless and damaged, so painful and so raw and bare of all masks. It was like I was watching the memories of those words, the memories hidden in my writing, play out before me, but the person they spoke of, the me they spoke of, she felt like a stranger. I had to remind myself, with tears in my eyes, that she's no stranger, she's me. She is me. That won't ever change. There's always been that part of her that wished the me right now or even a future me could go back to her and tell her that everything would work out somehow, that one day everything would be okay. I remembered that I had once even believed that might have happened. Maybe it had been a dream, of a fantasy that I had conjured up, but to her, it was the closest thing to reality. I wish right now, in this very moment, I could go back to her and tell her everything was going to be alright. I want to be her strength, to thank her for pushing through it all, for living long enough for my future to be possible. I owe her so much, and after everything she's been through, all for me and my future's sake, I don't even know where to begin.