the many versions of me, am I really brand new?

When I turned 18 is when my life started coming together. Not perfectly, of course. It just started to awaken.

I make lots of promises to myself. I vowed to myself that year, that while I’ve been laying the foundation for who I wanted to be,2017 would be the one that I actualized the dreams I had. And it changed me in ways I could never imagine.

In my small world, its small characters and nothingness. I changed. I felt quiet and loud and cut my hair. I emulated people I admired to feel less lost. I gave up and tried again. I cried on buses, missed some altogether. I spent a lot of time out and alone, which I never did before. I got things done that I probably should’ve done earlier. I was often scared but did it all anyway. I said yes to things I wasn’t sure of that ended up paying off. I said yes to things that didn’t. I met brilliant, kind people. I met people I won’t ever see again. The year in all its twists, successes, fuck ups and brilliance made me a whole new person come winter and the new year. 

I tried to convince myself I was brand new every time. Enough to feel like this new person and stop living as the old one. I tried to convince people around me, too, to treat me like they knew how different I’d become. Sometimes you’re the only one who sees it.

I see myself in glimpses but it’s different every time. Who I am right now won’t be forever. I’ll make new promises to myself. Live those out, too. I’ll remember versions of selves I’ve lived before like memories changing every time you bring them up. I’ll try to forget who they are, but they won’t forget me.