Sometimes I Miss Myself

Sometimes I miss myself

I look back at pictures from when I was younger, before I met anyone who thought that it was okay to treat me like that. I look back in scrapbooks and I'm smiling and laughing without a care in the world. My parents asked where that girl went and I really wish I could tell them, but I'm looking for her too.

I look in the mirror now and I no longer recognize myself. I mean I like what I see, well it's okay, but I'm not really sure who she is. I don't know what makes her happy and what makes her feel bad. I don't know her hobbies or her favorite color, and I'm not sure she knows either, but that’s okay.

Sometimes I miss the little girl in the pictures, she was me, but I am no longer her.

I look at her and I can tell you all her friends names and her favorite stuffed animal. I can tell you the movie that made her laugh until her cheeks hurt. I can tell you all about her, and I love her more then anything in the world. If I could go back and protect her I would give everything. Going back and changing her means I would no longer be me, but really I think I'm okay with that.

Sometimes I miss myself.