My Old Self

I was rummaging through my stuff looking for my accessory kit full of beads and wires that allowed me to make my own rings and didn’t find it but came across something else: old prints of self-help advices and pieces. I then remembered rewinding to a couple or triple years back and reading these words on the internet and them igniting a spark I knew would turn into a fire someday. Immediately, I clicked the print button. I needed a hard copy in my every day life, I thought; something that will better my self, my actions, and ultimately my life.

I still think about my old self most days; I was a determined flare. I looked for all the things that could improve myself and absorbed them like the green that absorbs the water after a long draught, and constantly tried to apply them in my life. I kept notebooks around full of writings of my progress; full of notes and quotes of inspiration and new revelations to help me on my way, and most of all I kept my biggest asset of all close by: God.

There is a kind of change that’s good, when you came from somebody you didn’t want to be, and I always welcomed that change– a bit like upgrading yourself and leaving your downgrades in your heart but moving forward. But I wonder about the bad kind of change; the change I have become from a person I used to be proud of towards a person I can barely stand anymore. It’s not just in my looks; it has seeped through my core and made me more cynical, frustrated, doubtful, and selfish. I used to be overwhelmed by love so much that I’d cry at life. I was a spirited giver, and a humble receiver, so content and blessed in all ways. Now I am stoic and I can’t feel my heart anymore and all I wish was that I could go back and stop all of this from happening; the destruction of closing the door to the light.

There is a kind of change that’s good, and the kind of change I’ve done, and between the two I know that despite the less good being I have transformed into, I will have to fight and struggle my way back into the virtue that used to define me. It’ll take more effort but there’s hope in knowing that as long as I am alive, there’s still a good change that I can conquer, just so I can go back to the spirit I was once, only finer from the cutting edges of the world and the pressures in my head. Change is beautiful, but the kind of change to reversion is what I crave. To be me again, in the fullness and authenticity where I allowed God to rule over me. I had a body but I was more of a spirit, and although they were glued together to me they were still separate back then and I never belonged. Now I am just a body and my spirit has gone ill. Let me heal, let me heal. Every day my old spirit calls, longing to be free of the cage I have made.

Sometime’s it’s simply just opening an unlocked door. Other times, it’s about closing the others and locking them for good. It’s okay to keep the key and check back some nights, letting them roam a while but tucking them tightly in afterwards when the curfew strikes.

It’s just about figuring out which are the wrong ones to shut, and the right ones to let go.

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