I miss myself.
Not me now,
but before.

Before I grew older,
and learned awful things.
Before I stopped wearing sundresses,
and pigtails in my hair.

I miss the me that didn't fall apart like glass.
I miss the me that didn't have false hope
that everything would get better.
I miss the me that didn't run from her problems.

I want the me who wanted to stand on the sun,
and reach for the clouds.
I want the me who only cried over a dropped ice cream cone,
or a broken toy.
I want the me who always smiled wide enough,
that you could see her tongue through her gapped teeth.

I want to be what I was.
I want to be happy.
I want to not care what others think.
I want to not be rocks at the bottom of the lake.

I long not to be myself.
I long to be the version that people liked,
and wanted.