I’m irrevocably different than who I was four months ago. Sharper. More assertive. More selfish. More empathetic. Less willing to share myself, but more giving of myself. More okay with being a paradox, with being a crescendo of internal conflict that ebbs and flows and directly correlates with my need to write.
"...there's something really cool about finding something old of yours that can still be used for something you're about to do. Like, even though you've changed, an important part of you hasn't."