I miss the version of me who used to glow without trying.. The one who laughed without guarding her heart, who trusted her timing, who didn't carry the weight of overthinking every move. Sometimes I wonder if she's gone forever, or if she's just waiting for me -to stop surviving, and start breathing again. She never told me to "get over it." She whispered, "You never lost her. you just buried her beneath everything you had to survive." And maybe she was right. Maybe healing isn't about becoming who you were - but remembering who you are, beneath the noise,beneath the scars, beneath the survival. For the first time, I'm not chasing the old me anymore. I'm learning to love the woman who's still standing - quietly, bravely, becoming new.