RIP to the old me.

A eulogy: a laudatory speech or written tribute, especially praising someone who has died.

I am not dead, but part of me, who I once was, is.

Praising that part of me is not what I'm here to do. However grateful I am for having been that person once upon a time, because it lead me to who I am today that part of me was awful, naïve, closed-minded and foolish. I am here to tell the story of how I killed her.

survived by Samantha R Bitter

and predeceased by many other Samantha R Bitters/ Swarbricks in her lifetime.

The girl I once was, it's hard to say where she began and where she ended so summing up her time in this world will be difficult and potentially painful.

I never loved her the way I should have. She was me and I her and we hated each other, ourselves. She hated who I was becoming and I hated who I was before. We grappled with what was to become of us.

Be young and foolish, grow-up and use your head.

I'm not sure we ever agreed on anything before I killed her.

She lived carelessly, she shared her heart without realizing she may never get it back, she held grudges and told lies. She hurt people, she hurt herself.

She never asked for what she wanted, she never accepted the love she thought she didn't deserve. She deserved it all. She just didn't know it so she let people walk all over her. She neglected and abused the only body she's been given. She hated me and never let me forget that. Every time she looked back at me in the mirror I was reminded of everything I would never be to her.

It was a slow death. She fought hard against me, she didn't want to die. But little by little I forced her out and replaced her with new pieces of myself.

I left her behind when I decided to let go of the grudges she held. I erased her reflection when I let my stretched lobes shrink. I cut off her fingers when I decided to stop handing my heart to anyone that asked for it. I silenced her voice when I decided to love myself, every soft spot, every roll. I broke her legs when I started asking for what I wanted and taking it because I deserved it.

I didn't hold onto her while she died, I let her go when I knew who I wanted to be and I didn't want her to be a part of it.

So here's to her, for guiding me through a different time in my life. For carrying me, or rather dragging me through all the shit I went through to get here. Here's to her for being my line of defense even though I killed her all that time ago. Here's to her for still being a part of me.

If I had to guess her epitaph would probably read something like this:

Here lies Samantha,

No ragrets.

not a single letter.

ya know what I'm sayin?

---

My super cool horoscope app that I never stop talking about mentioned something about writing an obituary for my past self and burying it in the ground, which is what brought me here to write this for the old me, to bury it in the depth of the internet instead and its much less an obituary than it is a story of murder but its here and its out now and good riddance.