I can't remember life before.
I don't remember who I was. What I was. What I thought about.
Well, I sort of remember, but it is not like a memory. More like observing someone else's life. Like watching someone through a mist. It wasn't really me, it seems. It was like pre-me. Proto me.
The real me is the one who exists in Jesus. The real me is the one I am excavating from my past self and discovering under all the layers.
To anyone who hasn't been there before, this whole thing might seem terrifying. My old friends may, in fact, be worried for me. They might just worry that the person they knew before evaporated, disappeared, disolved. But the truth is that the person they knew before was not the real me.
The real me is the one who woke up on the day that I died and was reborn in Jesus. September 10th, 2003 at 10:00 am.
My true birth day.