Lately, I’ve been feeling like a stranger to myself. It’s not that anything is terribly wrong—it’s just that I feel missing. The version of me that used to feel full of life, that had passions, routines, and small joys that made every day feel like mine. Somewhere between responsibilities, expectations, and just trying to keep up, I lost touch with the things that made me feel like me.

I miss her. I miss the girl who didn’t just check things off a to-do list but actually enjoyed them. The one who read books just because she loved the words, not because she felt like her current self wasn’t good enough. The one who made time for movement, for her peace. Somewhere along the way, I got so focused on what needs to get done that I stopped prioritizing who I am while doing it. And that’s a loss I feel .. deeply.