I miss being a dreamer, feeling my blood surge through my veins.
I miss the hunger for knowledge, the quiet hope for a better tomorrow.
I miss the sharpness of my mind, the joy that came with every new discovery.
I miss the scent of flowers, the way nature once painted the world in colors I could truly see.

I miss the crisp morning air, the freshness, the promise of a new beginning—
when I could reinvent myself before breakfast and let my daydreams carry me to lunch.
I miss believing I would stay young forever, too lost in life to fear time slipping away.

I miss loving with the unguarded heart of an adolescent and being loved with the same intensity.
I miss expressing myself freely, without hesitation, without restraint.
I miss living without the weight of masks, without the need to wrap myself in layers just to get through the day—it’s exhausting.

I miss the feeling that anything was possible, even when I had no idea what I was talking about.
I miss looking into your eyes and seeing my life as a single, continuous thread, rather than a web of tangled branches.
I miss being vulnerable without fear, open without the constant worry of being taken advantage of.
I miss the days before I had to tear myself apart, choosing one piece of me over another.

I miss the old me, the naive, the dreamer, the young…

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