Dear Former Self,
I know its been a while we’ve spoken. Maybe you think I’m unkind. Or selfish. That I acknowledge you so little. Even though I was essentially, created from you. And I can never allow myself to forget that you essentially are my motherland. My creator. My birthplace.
No, I haven’t forgotten you. You still remain tucked somewhere within some corner of my heart. In the grooves of my memory. Within the folds of my spirit. When they tell me my eyes glow when I smile, I know it’s your pent up laughter that they see. When my slightly restrained womanly demeanor metamorphoses into a child that’s been allowed to run wild, its your carefree spirit that dances within. And on nights when I lie in bed, a vision of you, in the form of my old memories, fleets before my eyes, refusing to leave. Even though you and I are no longer friends, probably rare acquaintances, you live within me. And I carry you within me, with a sense of ownership, pride and honour. even though I might not show it.
I’m sorry you had to go through what you did. I know you weren’t exactly expecting all the disappointments, the tears, the failures that came your way. You had set yourself up for the skies, yet all you met with was the musty ground. You were let down by those you thought would never desert you. You were burned down by strife. By discord. By struggle. Your porcelain doll-esque spirit was shattered to pieces. In a way you never thought you would heal.
But you did. Only to fill those cracks with gold. Like the kintsugi potters in Japan, who believe that broken pottery is more beautiful that its original self, for the scars tell stories of all the wars the samurai has fought, only to return, recover and grow stronger.
And surprisingly, I don’t sympathize with you. Because the older, wiser me has come to understand, and appreciate that, as Destiny’s child, you had to go through all of this, for you to become me. The version of myself that I have become today. In your destruction, lay my birth. My wisdom came at the cost of your naivety. My maturity could only have been born from your innocence. Your ashes were my first cries. Your graveyard, my womb. Your tombstone, my cradle. As the Phoenix self-immolates itself, before it choses to resurrect itself from its own mortal remains, so did you have to be destroyed, so I could be formed.
Rome wasn’t built in a day. Neither was I. But it was built on ruins. And so was I. Recreated on my own ruins.Just like water changes form, based on the utensil it finds itself in, I had to, too, change. But lets not call it change. Lets call it evolution. For despite the fires, storms and roads I had to walk through, I have no regrets. Diamonds are created under the harshest of conditions, and so did my soul, have to walk through Hades to find its own Heaven.
There are days I remember you. And like I said before, there are traces of you that still remain within. But having said all of this, I know that in no circumstance, am I going back to you.
Adieu, former self. I hope, with the purest of intentions, that we never meet. For its taken so much of you to be me, that I fear returning to who I once used to be.
Your Future Self