I don't remember much between my death and new life. Mostly bits and pieces... flashes, in my head, and Miranda and that doctor - Wilson? It's not as if he's worth remembering. He was a traitor.
It's been... difficult. Being alive again. Useless thoughts keep cluttering my head - sure, I'm still me, but what's me now? The original Commander Erica Shepard, first human Spectre, killer of Sovereign and saviour of the Citadel, she died in the vacuum above that planet.
Me, I'm the new Shepard, rebuilt from the cells and remains of the old one. I have her memories, her personality, but... not her feelings.
I remember my life and my final moments. But every time I think of it, the feeling slips away. It's not like watching a newscast of someone else's life; whenever I think of what I've survived, whether it's the gang or my early service or Ilos, it's all just pictures and facts. The old Commander Shepard is me, and not me.
What's worse, sometimes I don't know who 'me' is. The more I try to be who I remember, the more it goes to pieces...
But this is all a waste of thought. Let my actions speak for themselves, and if I don't always make the smartest decisions - well, who does? We're not all geniuses. Worrying about it only makes it worse.
I may be just a continuation, but I'm still me.