But I have.

I didn't think I should be glad to get back to you.

But I am.
What are you doing to me to make me feel a tiny pain in my heart?
You're crowding all the things I did here and all the things I thought about like a thousand white pigeons round my head.

All my impatient sighs, and big ambitions, and silly young hopes and fears are coming to meet me and make me want to laugh and cry.

But it isn't the same me that you see; it isn't.