You have to die a couple of times to live properly. Sometimes, you had to die by your own hands. In some places, we call it change. I have spoken a heartwarming eulogy before I buried myself, and over and over again, I have done this, and there is little I remember from who I used to be—only glimpses of specific days. The affairs of the every day and my general disposition are all forgotten, lost. To grow older was to grow anew, to say hello as you look in the mirror; nice to meet you, we shall have some good times together. There is a graveyard in my mind. I look at an endless span of eerie graves, each with an epitaph describing who I used to be and who I am not anymore. I walk around them as if there was something I forgot to say, and often, I find myself with no words but three: I am sorry.
It was a twisted thing—to grow, to change, to begin again. There were parts of me I have had to put down like we have to put down a sick animal. The whole act is an expression of mercy, of fondness, and yet, it does not feel this way. It was how we changed: with a great deal of effort and friction. True change was a conscious decision; everything else was a response to the world around us. I can sometimes remember the month and year or, on some occasions, the precise date for when I chose to become someone else in some regard. I clearly remember the before and the after, and sometimes, I dream about it all; I dream about how my life would have turned out if I had not made a decision. And sometimes, I wake up with regret.
I dreamt of a different life last night. In it, I had chosen differently several times, and at some point, I gained control of myself in the dream—realising I was in one—and then I decided to change myself again. At that very moment, it occurred to me that as long as it were up to me, I would always find something amiss, something skewed. I would always try to fix it, and in perfect irony, it was the only thing I would never be able to change about myself, inadvertently trapping myself in this cycle of mourning all the people I have ever been.