"Who was I then?"

What's so strange to me is that I can't even force my heart back to that place where I felt that all-consuming passion. That makes me feel distant from myself. Who was I then? Will I ever be able to get back to that place? Reading the letters again made me wonder: Which is the real me? The one who saw the world in that emotionally saturated way, or the me who sees it the way I do now?

From Love Letters