Eight years

Eight years have passed since my immature, but honest posts. I have deleted them because they aren't for my current faint heart. Reading them after eight years brought back me-then that I have forgotten. Almost a stranger now.

I was insecure, rash and stupid.

I feel mostly sad and pity for the me-then. Trying so hard to be one of them. Trying to be acknowledged by people who are mere memories or even forgotten. Always unhappy and dissatisfied with myself. Always comparing to others. Believing that I was really flawed.

How would I scold me-then now?

Stop. Comparing. I am me. I am not a thing. I am not nothing. This. I am telling to me-now too. Because I am forgetful.

There was no reason for the severe insecurities I had felt. None at all. The world may be superficial, but pay more attention to my response to my emotions with the world rather than putting blame on the world.

Find meaning in what I have in my hands at the moment. Be thankful. Be grateful. Be humble.

Wait is boring. But wait is worth it. Patience in itself is worth it.

I do, however, thank me throughout the eight years for the growth. For casting away the volatile emotions. For learning to be less stupid. For putting myself first. For choosing "loneliness" over being used and manipulated by others unjustly.

Most importantly,  for learning patience with gratitude.