For the last seven years, I have answered to Threnody.

Merriam-Webster defines me as a song or hymn of mourning, composed or performed as a memorial to a dead person. It is a Greek word whose origins include the words "threnos" (a lament) and "oide" (a song).

Beautiful, no? I choose to interpret it as a song of mourning, a memorial to the dead pieces of myself, rather than another entity. Seven years ago, it was a pretty word I found in the dictionary, and a word I wanted to shape myself to fit. I'm twenty-two now, and the past seven years, more than any others, have shaped me, forged me, defined me. I'm tempermental, I'm bold, I'm quick to judge and quicker still to criticize. I'm aloof by nature, I don't work well with others, and I am perhaps overly opinionated. None of these are good qualities, and I mourn the parts of me that forgave easily, trusted quickly, and loved regardless.

Someone once said that the qualities we hate most in other people are the ones we fear in ourselves. I find it to be an accurate statement.