“I miss my old self, who could focus on things for much longer, who didn’t get swayed by his emotions at every little pushback, who knew a brighter future is awaiting ahead.”

This has been going on in my mind for some weeks, months actually. No matter what I’m doing, I start thinking in the middle of it, of what could’ve been, if things had worked out the way I wanted them to.

I, while writing this piece, find myself trapped by my past. Every decision I regret, every missed opportunity, feels like a chain holding me back. There are times when nostalgia makes me yearn for a time that no longer exists. This longing creates a barrier, barring me from appreciating the beauty of the present.

It’s strange how memories can be both a comfort and a curse. I find myself constantly replaying scenes from my past, analyzing every word spoken, every action taken. What if I had simply chosen differently? What if I had been braver, more decisive, or simply luckier?

These thoughts are like a heavy backpack I can’t seem to take off. They weigh me down, making each step forward feel like a monumental effort. I catch myself daydreaming about alternate timelines where everything worked out perfectly, where I became the person I always thought I’d be.

The irony isn’t lost on me. While I’m busy lamenting the past and dreaming of what could have been, the present slips through my fingers like sand. I’m here, but not really here. The world continues to spin, life goes on, and I’m stuck in a loop of what ifs and if onlys.

Perhaps what scares me most is the realization that I’m not the same person I used to be. The version of myself that I miss so dearly - focused, resilient, optimistic - feels like a stranger now. I wonder if that person ever truly existed, or if I’ve simply romanticized a past version of myself that I haven’t yet recognized.

Despite the weight of the past and the struggles of the present, a small part of me still holds onto hope for the future. It’s a flickering flame, often overshadowed by doubt and regret, but it refuses to be extinguished completely.

I want to believe that it’s not too late to rediscover that focus, that resilience, that optimism. I want to trust that a brighter future is still waiting ahead, even if the path to get there looks different than I once imagined.

As I write these words, I’m making a promise to myself. To try, each day, to loosen the grip of the past. To be more present in the moment. To look forward with hope rather than backward with regret. It won’t be easy and I know there will be days when I’d break down. But perhaps acknowledging these feelings is the first step towards truly moving forward.

The journey continues, one day at a time.