I miss her.

I miss her.

She was fun.

She was not afraid.

She laughed. Loud.

She was adventurous.

Slow to anger. Quick to forgive.

She was naive.

She had a lot of friends. Too many to count.

She was goofy and nerdy and owned it, too.

She took chances.

She jumped out of airplanes and left everything for a place she knew no one.

She didn’t stress so much about the future or focus so much on the past.

She didn’t let the small things become big things.

She had goals, vision, dreams, desires.

She was so innocent.

Now she’s tough.

She’s hardened.

She stresses.. a lot.

She worries about a lot of things that are not in her control.

She hears your advice, but her anxiety is louder and tells her the opposite.

She is fearful.

She drives the speed limit.

She is terrified of heights.

She is quick to anger.

She takes everything personally.

But she’s also smarter.

She no longer says “What if?” but instead “Even if.”

She is a realist.

She isn’t scared of death.

Despite her anxious thoughts, her faith triumphs.

She listens more.

She is soft.

She is genuine.

She is empathetic.

She is unashamed of who she is.

She understands what quality over quantity means when it comes to friendships.

She is okay with saying goodbye to things and people that no longer suit her.

She knows pain — real pain.

She allows herself to grieve freely.

She has changed so much.

But you see, she didn’t really have a choice.

There is a before and an after and there always will be.

She will never be who she was before. It’s impossible.

And that’s okay.

I still miss her though.

I always will.

A part of her will always be with me.

She has to be.

She is me.