Between Who I Was and Who I Am

There are days
I feel like a hallway
with doors half-open.

Not fully past.
Not fully present.

Just standing
between echoes.

The boy I was
still waits somewhere.

He believes in forever.
He trusts easily.
He doesn’t know yet
how heavy silence can become.

The person I am now
walks slower.

Speaks softer.
Thinks before trusting.
Carries memories
like folded letters in a pocket.

Sometimes
they meet in the middle.

And I feel it.

A strange pull
between innocence
and awareness.

Growing up
is not losing yourself.

It is negotiating
with every version
you have ever been.

Some nights
I forgive my past.

Some nights
I miss it.

But every morning
I wake up
as someone slightly different
than yesterday.

Not broken.
Not perfect.

Just evolving.

And maybe that’s all we are

Not fixed identities.
Not single stories.

Just chapters
learning how to breathe
inside the same body.