Back in November, I wrote a blog about learning to hate what I once loved. It’s really weird. I’ve ripped that part of me out. I don’t want to be dramatic but… I feel like a part of me has died. I don’t enjoy what I used to anymore.
I… I want to know if that part of me can be revived. Not now. Not even soon. For a while, I need to act like it was never a part of me. I don’t want to be associated with it. I don’t want anyone to know me by that.
But in a few years? I don’t know. The problem is that what little confidence I had is gone and my insecurities eat me alive. They literally make me want to crawl into a dark hole or box and not come out for a very, very, very long time.
How silly is that?
Four years ago, or five or six or ever, I never would have guessed that this is where I’d be. I don’t know what I was thinking.
By the way, having something that is a part of you die is incredibly painful. It’s probably supposed to be. It sounds really stupid and it feels really stupid but I will literally never get this part of me back to the way it was. I don’t even remember exactly what it was like.
I just….honestly, it was stupid of me to ever think I could keep it alive.