Sometimes I try to remember her.
The 13-year-old version of me.
The girl who replayed one clip five times and told herself it was "just boredom."
The girl who calculated concert prices secretly and then laughed like it didn't matter.
The girl who almost said his name out loud in class but swallowed it back.
She feels far away now.
But she's not gone.
I don't look at her with embarrassment anymore.
I don't roll my eyes at her dramatic thoughts.
I don't call her delusional.
She wasn't crazy.
She was soft.
And softness in a practical world can feel like weakness if you don't protect it.
Back then, my life felt small.
Not bad.
Just small.
Same streets. Same routines. Same expectations.
And then suddenly there was someone living in bright lights, speaking in a different language, smiling like the world was bigger than mine.
Of course I was drawn to that.
Who wouldn't be?
He wasn't just a person.
He was possibility.
He was proof that somewhere out there, life looked different.
And maybe I needed that reminder more than I needed him.
When I think about her now, I don't feel the ache I used to.
I feel gratitude.
Because she taught me something important.
She taught me that I am capable of feeling deeply.
Of attaching. Of caring. Of imagining.
And those aren't flaws.
They're strengths—when placed in the right direction.
If I hadn't gone through that phase, maybe I wouldn't understand myself this clearly now.
Maybe I wouldn't know how easily I can turn someone into a symbol.
Maybe I wouldn't know how much I crave being seen.
That younger version of me didn't need criticism.
She needed time.
And time gave her clarity.
I don't watch his edits anymore the way I used to.
If one appears, I don't panic.
I don't spiral.
I don't type long messages.
I just smile faintly.
Like seeing an old chapter of a book I once read obsessively.
It mattered then.
It doesn't control me now.
And that's the difference.
He was never my destiny.
He was a mirror.
Reflecting what I lacked. Reflecting what I wanted. Reflecting the version of me I was slowly growing into.
The girl I used to be thought he was her whole world.
The girl I am now knows—
She was just learning how to build one.