Died to Save Me

People often get confused
when I mention the fact that I
consider myself before I
came out a different person.

It's because that was a different person,
they died to save me.

The person I was did their
best given the circumstances
they were thrown into. It was
hard for them. I'm still working
off some of their baggage.

But, that different person,
even after all of the hardships
and triumphs they had been through,
they died to save me.

They were an extrovert pushed into
being an introvert by an uncaring
community.
They were the pariah.
They were the person who got bullied.
They survived years of torment but
they died to save me.

Sometimes there's that part that
really does have to die to save you.
The part that was once a shining beacon
of hope that has now fallen beyond disrepair.
A thread of connection to a past that
can never come to pass again.
Memories or experiences of pain,
trauma. It can die to save you too.

You don't have to carry
the mountains you come across,
you can just climb them.

When it dies, it is gone, but:
you can sleep easier knowing
they died to save you.