I’ve changed.

There was a time in my twenties when I was as vapid and shallow and egotistical as anything. When I used and exploited people, was extremely unforgiving, and did some very unkind things to people who didn’t deserve it. I made choices that I wasn’t necessarily proud of, but I covered them up easily with more bad choices. I don’t feel good about any of that, but then I realize: that’s what being in your early-mid 20s is all about. That was my life and now it’s gone, and I have mixed feelings; I was young and looked at the best I’ve ever looked. But I was lonely. And I was kind of a bad miserable person. And I was constantly competing with other girls who brought out the absolute worst parts of me. And now here I am. I’ve changed, and that’s good.

I’ve changed because I’ve put myself in a position where I want and need to be more caring. Because if I can’t be, how can I expect the young people around me to be?

I’ve changed because I’m older. And naturally, as we get older, we realize the fucked up and vapid priorities we had when we were younger and freer.

I’ve changed because I was booted out of the friend group I loved and cherished so much, but who I realized were poison and bad for me and brought out an awful and selfish and competitive and bitter side of myself that I hate.

I’ve changed mostly though, because I fell deeply, deeply in love. I’m in love with the kind of person who doesn’t just bring out the best in me, he brings out the best in everyone because he’s that amazing of an educator, a person and a rolemodel. His innate goodness and his overcoming of strife in his own life forces me to strive desperately to do and be better in life and in love, because I want to rise to the level he’s set for himself and grow right alongside him.

Change is powerful, but it showcases its power with tiny subtleties. To the point where we look back as I am now, suddenly realizing “I’ve changed,” and I know how it happened but I barely fully realize and appreciate it. I’m so glad.

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