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“I think it’s normal,” she told me. “It’s just life. We’re not kids anymore. We have commitments and responsibilities and that makes us stressed and yes, bitter.”

No.

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I don’t want to be bitter.

I love my best friend, but I didn’t like her answer. I don’t believe that’s the answer. Because if that’s the case, there are hundreds of adults walking around the world right now and they are all sad and depressed and have negative and dark thoughts.

I am the old me. I know that’s who I really am – it is! The old me is still there, somewhere beneath the piles of shattered confidences and broken dreams. The old me is still smiling, still carefree and free spirited. The old me is waiting patiently for the mounds of confusion and disappointments to shift, so that it can raise even a pinky finger and say, “Hi!  I’m still here!”

And it does sometimes. There are days where the old me manages to peek out and remind me who I really am for a few minutes, a few hours. Recently it’s been happening more often.

I think that the old me is the real me. I think I’m having a hard time with who I am now because it isn’t me.

And I can’t wait to be myself again.

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