I miss the old me.

I miss the guy who was 15 lbs lighter and didn’t suffer from plantar fasciitis.

The guy who was older looking but had energy to take on new things and didn’t feel confused in the morning about what to do first. Or next. Or first. Or next first.

I miss the man whose wife found him sexy enough to put on the tall shoes and tell him to get undressed.

The guy who took it all seriously but didn’t seem weighed down by any of it.

The up-and-coming star who still had an unwritten future and made people say: He just might do anything.

I miss that guy.

The old me.

And I’m trying to figure out how not to.

So I can be the new me. The next me.

No regrets.

No sorrow.

No looking back.

No missing the old me.