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Back then, I was chasing myself—so obsessed with who I wanted to be that I missed the chance to get to know who I was in the moment. I still miss that girl. But I wouldn’t want to be her again.
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If I’m honest with myself, holding on to all that stuff after all this time feels like a choice. Like in doing so, I’m choosing to be weighed down. Now is as good an opportunity as ever to stop being a bag lady. Someone who hoards all her trauma and drama, packing it away in various bags for safekeeping. Carrying them along with her everywhere she goes so she can unfurl them from time to time, if only just to admire all her problems. It’s time to move on.