The Way I Once Used to Be

Hi my friend,

There are days when 
I feel that some brighter,
more polished version
has been locked 
in the past.

I can still see her…
but I'm no longer her.

I used to be kind and sweet,
so full of hope and rosy dreams.
But then… my mom died.

And from a brand-new doll,
hair brushed smooth 
and eyes wide with wonder,
I became the one who's 
survived a house fire.

Some parts of me 
are still recognizable,
but others have melted off.
My skin is now smoke-stained,
and my hair has partly 
burned off.

And I miss the way 
I once used to be…
all shiny and new.

Believing in good things,
and trusting that there was magic
everywhere I looked.

But now I'm here,
after the fire
that no one really saw.

And I've learned
that this world can be harsh too - 
that sadness and pain can find us,
no matter how many good 
things we do.

But I miss the innocence 
I once had. 

The one that…
no matter how hard I try, 
I can never get back.

Maybe that's what happens
when you lose someone you love…
a part of you goes with them,
to wherever they are now.

And somehow,
that thought brings me comfort…
knowing she didn't have to go alone.
That she had a part of me
to hold on.

But still…
I miss it.

And I wish 
I could still have that.
I wish she came back.

But instead I walked 
through the flames, and I became…
someone who doesn't fear 
chipping her paint. 

A scratch on 
your skin means little…
when you are painted 
with scars.

And I love 
this part of me.

The one who 
no longer cares what 
the onlookers think.

The one who 
knows her own 
strength.

The one who 
truly enjoys 
herself.

I love her.  I really do. 

But still…  
On some days…

I really miss the part 
who went with 
my mom.

With love,
Elina

Imagery / Emily Davis “Fields of brush” (fragment), 2024