THE VERSION OF ME I LOST

I don’t remember when it happened. I don’t remember the exact moment, or the reason why. But somewhere along the way, I lost her. The little girl I used to be.

I was a happy child. I was always smiling, laughing at silly things. I was happy with the people around me, happy with the small things life gave me. I didn’t overthink, I didn’t hold on to people too tightly. If someone stayed, it was fine. If someone left, it was okay too. I didn’t carry the weight of people’s actions on my heart. I just lived. I was happy in my own world.

But as I grew older, something changed. And honestly, I don't know what triggered this change. I became anxious and insecure. I started doubting myself in ways I never did before. I wasn’t that fearless little girl anymore — the one who would speak without worrying about how it sounded, or do something without caring how it might turn out.

Now, my mind is full of constant questions. Am I enough? Should I say this? Should I stay quiet? Will they like me? Will they leave? I turned into someone who tries to please everyone, even if it means losing small pieces of myself just to keep them close.

I was never like this before. I didn’t need anyone’s approval to feel worthy. And it hurts sometimes. It hurts to look back and realize how light my heart used to be. How simple life felt. I miss her. I miss the little girl who found joy in tiny things, who believed in herself without needing a reason.

I don’t know if I’ll ever be her again. Maybe this is what growing up feels like. Maybe this is how we lose versions of ourselves we never thought we’d forget.

But today, I just wanted to remember her. To write about her. Because she mattered. And she’s still somewhere inside me, even if life has made her quieter.

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