The Way I Used to Be was very difficult for me to rate. I struggled between adequately appreciating the important themes and messages in the book, while pointing out its flaws without seeming insensitive. How to walk the thin line between constructive criticism and plain callousness for all the victims whose stories were told in this book? I ended up rating it three stars, which in Goodreads means I "liked it". Which I did. There were just some points which kept me from rating it 4 stars or above, which I will touch on later in my review. Before I begin, I just want to throw a disclaimer out there that I am in no way invalidating anyone's experiences, victim or no. Nor am I "comparing" experiences in terms of the amount of trauma experienced. I'm just writing an honest review for a book. And if I come across in any way insensitive or callous, please do not hesitate to tell me immediately. 
 The story follows a girl named Eden. She was always good at being good, even after starting high school. But the night her brother's best friend Kevin rapes her, her entire world capsizes. Everything she thought she knew was a lie, and everyone she thought she trusted ended up betraying her. What - and who- she once loved, she now hates. Nothing in her life makes sense anymore, and Eden can't bring herself to tell anyone what happened. So she buries the girl she once was - the way she used to be. Eden is thrown into a vortex of hatred, both for her abuser and herself, and this changes her completely. This book is told in four parts - freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior year, revealing the deep cuts of trauma. 
 I don't know a lot of things. I don't know why I didn't hear the door click shut. Why I didn't lock the damn door to begin with. Or why it didn't register that something was wrong - so mercilessly wrong - when I felt the mattress shift under his weight. Why I didn't scream when I opened my eyes and saw him crawling between my sheets. Or why I didn't try to fight him when I still stood a chance. 
 I don't know how long I lay there afterward, telling myself: Squeeze your eyelids shut, try, just try to forget. Try to ignore all the things that didn't feel right, all the things that felt like they would never feel right again. Ignore the taste in your mouth, the sticky dampness of the sheets, the fire radiating through your thighs, the nauseating pain - this bulletlike thing that ripped through you and got lodged in your gut somehow. No, can't cry. Because there's nothing to cry about. Because it was just a dream, a bad dream - a nightmare. Not real. Not real. Not real. That's what I keep thinking: NotRealNotRealNotReal. Repeat, repeat, repeat. Like a mantra. Like a prayer. 
 There is no denying that this is a haunting, gripping book that tells a very heartbreaking story. I couldn't stop the tears as I read about Eden and her gradual emotional decline, the way she began to lose touch with the people closest to her, retreating into her own head more and more. How anything and everything became a sickening reminder of that terrible night. How she sought to numb herself, detach herself from the memory, and began to use other guys as an outlet to forget what happened, even for just a moment. How she unwittingly (or knowingly?) lashed out at the people closest to her, behaving horribly to them and pushing them away. Eden's life becomes a vicious cycle, and she spirals further and further into PTSD. 
 But even though the writing was clearly heartfelt, it ended up being a double-edged sword. Eden was a very frustrating character, to say the least. She was extremely difficult to like and very easy to dislike. The way she talked to others, the way she treated the people who genuinely cared about her, her attitude in general, rankled me and got on my nerves several times. The book became a little repetitive - something happens and it triggers Eden, she lashes out at the people around her, they try to ask what's wrong and she shuts them out. And then goes into an even bigger spiral of self-hatred because she can't bring herself to say anything about why she's not okay. And this went on for at least 90% of the book. It wasn't an easy feat to stomach Eden's character for that long, because to put it quite frankly - she was a bitch to everyone she knew, even her own best friend. 
 There have been many YA books touching on the subject of rape recently - and The Way I Used to Be hasn't really brought much to the table. The only interesting thing about it is how it's told in four parts - one for every year - and in each part, we watch Eden slowly change and we really get to see how that fateful night has shaped her. However there are also some aspects that are very lacking. For most of the book Eden is in a continuous downward spiral - but instead of using several repetitive events to bring that message across, I would rather have seen it in the more intangible things, like why in her POV Eden suddenly began addressing her parents by their first names Vanessa and Conner instead of Mom and Dad. But the author simply leaves it as Mom and Dad one page, and Vanessa and Conner the next. I felt like these changes were actually crucial in showing Eden's character development and the process of her growing rebellion, but they were simply glossed over. 
 It was also really depressing to read this book. I couldn't read it in one sitting because of that. Every few chapters I would have to put the book down to clear my head. And this is where I risk sounding insensitive - a depressing book does not mean it is automatically good. In that sense, The Way I Used to Be was - I'm terrible at analogies - like a fluffy but empty bun. You bite into the soft, fluffy texture of the bread, anticipating the rich taste of the filling since the bun tastes so promising - only to find the filling is empty and there's nothing inside so you're just eating plain bread. That's what I felt like reading this book. It was wonderful at first, but as time went on the story began to drag and I found it hard to get through it. Only towards the end did the book pick up - around the last six chapters where the healing process was beginning. 
 His hands, his arms, can hold the pieces in place temporarily, maybe even for a long time, but he can never truly put them back together. That's not his job. He's not the hero and he's not the enemy and he's not a god. He's just a boy. And I'm just a girl, a girl who needs to pick up her own pieces and put them back together herself. 
 I loved Eden then - but alas, I only got to see this version of her in the last 20 pages. Eden's healing process should have been gradual and measured to me, not rushed in the last few chapters. 
 In the end, I didn't enjoy The Way I Used to Be as much as I thought I would. It runs on emotions and shock factor more than it does actual substance. But I also felt that it is a very important book and I did take something away from it. Eden never dared to tell anyone what happened to her for fear of her own life - it began that first morning when even her own mother didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong with her, despite all the blood on the sheets. To all females out there - when something like that happens, get help. Don't bottle it all up - there are many, many avenues of help available even if you don't want to tell your family and/or friends. I cannot emphasise the importance of this. 
 And would I recommend this book after all? I would. Because it is poignant and it is heartbreaking and it does carry important messages. Maybe everyone has different tolerance levels. Some of my friends rated this book 4 or 5 stars. Perhaps I just couldn't bear reading about depression, having been depressed to the point of suicidal for some months of my life. But if you're looking for an alternate perspective, to learn more about victims of this terrible crime, then definitely pick up this book.