The Death Of The Girl In The Mirror

She is not me, she is a former version of me.
She feels separate to me, in some ways she feels like a stranger.
I am proud of her for surviving and for transforming.
I am proud of her for taking some of her darkest days, and turning them into some of her lightest.
I know part of her died that day, the day her big sister left this world.
I know parts of her have died since that moment, and she used it to fuel her transformation.
I know parts of her have died to become the person she is today.
So many parts, her whole identity has shifted since that day.
It wasn’t always that way; at first she fell, she fell so deep into a hole that she felt she may never get out of.
A hole that made her feel broken, like she was drowning in emotion.
Emotion that she ran from, she ran to the other side of the world…
The emotions didn’t allow her to; they kept following her wherever she went.
She numbed herself. She did everything to escape her emotion.
It was when she learnt to embrace them that things changed.
The more she embraced them, the more things changed.
The more she embraced them, the more things that were not right for her fell away.
The more she embraced them, the more she came home to herself.
The more she embraced them, the more she began to shine.
The more she embraced them, the more her life shifted to something wonderful.
I’m proud of her for surviving, I am proud of her for letting things die, I am proud of her for choosing to live.