Who i became after me ?

I recently finished a book, "Who I Became After Me." And I need to talk about the silence it left behind.

We talk about creation as a beautiful spark, but the truth is, creation is born from a wound, an error. My book is that error. It is the artifact of a period defined by a single, crushing feeling: the despair of being a ghost of your former self.

The biggest lie we are fed is that you escape your past self when you change. I found the opposite to be true. The real curse is not the slow fading of memory, but the relentless, inescapable presence of it.

"L'immortalità non è vivere per sempre. È ricordare sempre. e la più grande maledizione non è dimenticare chi sei, ma ricordarlo...dopo essere già cambiato."

To remember your former self—that weaker, crueler, or perhaps simpler version—while living in the new skin of the 'After Me' is a constant, suffocating torment. It’s like attending your own funeral every morning. Every time one of those infinite past versions of me died on the page, I felt that slow, silent death again.

The writing process wasn't cathartic; it was a dissection. To get to the end of the narrative, to write the final, shattering moment of Disintegration, I had to stare into the void I had created. I wrote about the body yielding to the flesh, the acoustic void, the white flash that was the annulment of perception.

And the feeling that drove that final breath? Not pain. That would have been too simple. It was "pura, totale disperazione." The despair of seeing everything—the mud, the blade, the clone—fuse into one final, horrible equation.

That is the true spirit of the "After Me." It is not a story of triumph or recovery. It is an honest document of how one person can be annihilated by the constant search for an identity that doesn't want to be found. It's a tragedy I had to write to survive.

If you have ever felt like a ghost walking through your own life, or if the mirror shows you a stranger you were forced to become, then you know the feelings that wrote this book.

Have you ever felt the weight of who you were dragging down who you are? Tell me your thoughts in the comments below.

Author of : Who i became after me