As I looked in the mirror, I thought of her.
The her that had written a letter to me now from me then. I couldn’t help but wonder would she be disappointed in what we had become.
She had been filled with hope and light before the universe hardened her before the darkness took over.
She was pure.
Filled with life and so much wonder.
There have been so many versions of her since then, but I can still remember her quite clearly. There was always a certain sparkle in her eyes. She had so many aspirations for herself. So many things she hoped she’d become when she grew older. She wanted to write, my God, did she love to write. She had so many words to say and she wanted to share them with the world, in hopes that they could help someone heal, just as so many words from various people had helped her.
But times passes, we change, and we leave things behind, sometimes even parts of ourselves.
She had to be left behind. She didn’t go without a fight though, no. She was quickly being put down beside all the versions that had come before her. When she was almost under, the pen was laid down for the last time and she begged and pleaded for it to be picked back up. To save her. To save us.
She reached out her hand and I let her slip away along with all the things she had hoped we would become.
Over a decade has passed since her fall.
All I can think is…how far have I fallen from who we wanted to become.
Had she stayed who would we have become?