Dear old, unredeemed self

Dear old, unredeemed self,

You showed up yesterday like a long, lost relative knocking at the door unannounced.  And you chose to stay a while.

You look like me.  You sound like me.  You have the same family.  

But you are not me.  

In fact, I don't even really like you all that much.  Or at all.

But yesterday you took over my life.  All my conversations.  All my interactions with friends and strangers.  All my thoughts.  

I could not shake you.  You would not leave me alone.  I asked you to leave, nicely at first, but you would not budge.

So you asked for it....

You are dead.  You have no power.  You cannot sustain me.  You cannot be trusted. You will not speak louder than the truth, and even if you chose to scream, I will chose not to listen.  Your old ashes are no match for the new beauty inside of me.  You do not exist any longer.

The same power that conquered death lives in me and I happen to know this terrifies you.   

So this serves as notice that if you chose to show up here again, the door will not be open for you.  You are not welcome.  You cannot stay.

In fact, here's the door.  And I'm not asking nicely this time.