The Way I Used to Be

“It’s true. Just because someone has always been seen as this incredible person—this hero—it doesn’t mean that’s the truth. Or that’s who they really are,” I say.

Why do I feel like, sometimes, I have no one in the entire world who knows me in even the slightest, most insignificant way?

Everything has a place—a right way to be. Here, I don’t have to worry about who I am or if I’m being it right. No one bothers me, not even myself.

It’s simple really. All you have to do is act like you’re normal and okay, and people start treating you that way.

There’s a brief moment of silence for what we’ve lost. And in that moment, it ends. Finally. The past of us officially comes to an end.

He’s not the hero and he’s not the enemy and he’s not a god. He’s just a boy. And I’m just a girl, a girl who needs to pick up her own pieces and put them back together herself.

“Yeah, of course I remember you, Eden. I remember everything.”

“I wish you didn’t.”

Would anyone care?

Would anyone even fucking notice?

What if one day I just wasn’t here anymore?

What if one day it all just stopped?

What if? What if? What if?

And I really wonder how people get to be normal like this. How they just seem to know what to say and do, automatically.

By the time I get out of the