Who Might She Have Been?

There are two wholes of me, one of which hangs on The Innocence, the purity, the blind She is a stranger to me now, she represents what didn't belong She weeps for the reversion of both mind and time She wallows in the deepest crevice of my present state Always so present but never to be portrayed My current self is who I have built, my cracked and stitched slate While she represents a happy and hopeful but ditzy ray I was never meant to be who she was but that was before it was all revealed Before the world and the pain and the suffering demanded to be know Before 18 worlds turned and the duties of the world were no longer concealed Now this is who I am, who I have built I am shattered and split on the exterior but on the inside aware. I always question who I could be, had I not kissed him, stepped there, or glanced. Who might I have been?