Honey, I’m home

The people I were whilst I was becoming myself, aren’t me. They’re friends and relatives, but they were never who I am now. They’ve lived and died and I knew them well. But all that remains of them now are memories, smells and photographs. I can’t deny they existed and I’m grateful to be able to forgive them for what they did wrong and that I can remember what they did right. Everyday and every night I become more of myself and less of them and I always like myself better. I judge better, I think longer before I speak, I know more and… I have more style. :)

And sometimes, not very often, I catch one of my old friends speaking through me again in that rebellious tone.

Hi everyone! I'm back from a lovely long holiday. Hope this finds you well.