Today I feel like giving old me a bit of grace and some rest.
I usually laugh at her or I’m super proud of her, or I’m jealous of her here and there too, and mad at her more than anything else.
I’m mostly mad at her.
And I know now that if you are mad about something
what that really means is that you still care about it.
So in a weird way, I care about how old me was cared for because she wasn’t and I won’t let that part go.
I’m still blaming people and other things about how things are going because of how they have gone before totally absolving myself from the responsibility of growth and change.
Old me did what she could with what she had and I have to say that bitch was a survivor you hear me? There I go, being proud again instead of loving her.
I shouldn’t objectify her. I should thank her. Appreciate her. And let her go. I can let go of anything but people. Because she was abandoned now I can’t leave nobody because I know still too intimately how that feels instead of letting the feeling do what feelings are supposed to and that is pass.
Scary though.
She couldn’t do it, I know but she has passed the baton of us to me.
She hopes that I can.
She’s outta breath and I should let her rest instead of dragging her along.
And of course, there’s a chance that people who knew her will think that they know me but honestly, if they haven’t been keeping up then they belong where they are now- distant.
She did what she was able. Thanks, doll. I got it from here, baby.
I’m finna take off.
Be at peace, Old me. Be at peace.

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