Rewriting myself

If you could have something named after you, what would it be?

“From the unreal, lead me to the real. From darkness, lead me to light. From death, lead me to immortality.”

I once believed that everything inside me had to be rewritten — erased, corrected, purified. I felt hunted, not by people, but by shadows that had no form yet occupied every corner of my thoughts.

Each moment felt watched, as if something unseen was waiting for me to slip, to fall, to lose myself completely.So I fought back in the only way I knew.Every thought that came, I questioned it.

Every whisper in my mind, I rejected it.

“This is garbage,” I told myself. “This is not me.”

Again and again, like a mantra, like a shield.

Because if I accepted every voice, every fear, every strange sensation as truth, I would disappear. I would no longer know where I ended and where the noise began.So I drew a line.

Not everything in the mind is yours.

Not everything you feel is real.Not everything that insists on being heard deserves your attention.

If I could start again, I would not rewrite myself out of fear.

I would write from clarity. I would not invite a “villain” to judge my story, because I have already done that to myself for too long. I have been my own harshest critic, my own shadow, my own unseen force.

This time, I would choose something different.I would become the witness of my story, not its victim.I would let thoughts pass without giving them power.

I would stop trying to prove my goodness to imaginary judges.And I would write under my real name—not because I am perfect, but because I am willing to stand as I am.

If something were to be named after me, it would not be a place, nor an object, nor a title.

It would be a space. A quiet space in the mind where noise loses its authority. A place where thoughts can come and go without turning into chains. A place where I remain, untouched.That would be my name.

“Abandon all varieties of fear and take refuge in the self. I shall liberate you from all sorrow; do not grieve.”