a process of means..

Forget. 
For one tiny fraction of a second forget your existance and take a form of something that is just a part of you. Be a silent, dependent appendage, a silent helpless witness of you on the better part of the great divide. 
A silent witness of you watching you grow.
Yes, even when you think you're not in the habit of growing anymore.

Observe.
Notice how carefully you exit one belief after the other. 
Like pods in concentric chrysalises. Breaking through one after the other.
Yes, right there, what you are now was never what you acquired on your own, rather it just shed a skin of its own.

So you can see, that the hatred was there for quite sometime. Quite sometime before it shed the veneer of faith. 
And surrender does lie there, patiently waiting for its own turn. 

Now stop.
Open your eyes, start existing again. 
Run your fingers through the tiny person shaped depression you've left on your bed.

Observe.
Like they say, the devil is the details. 
If you look closely you can find the bits and pieces of an older you lying somewhere.
You can almost sniff out the balance that you nurtured not long ago.
The balance that you just perspired.
The balance giving way to something ominous altogether.

You carry yourself as the biggest souvenir of the past.
Like, you know, vintage idiosyncrasies and collector's edition fugue. 

Breathe.
See the tiny involuntary movements of life.
Like a tiny alive, moving, living creature within yourself.
Like you within layers of you.

Close your eyes.
Stop existing for a moment there.
Now think of you as worthless dependent appendage of yourself.
Think of you as something you shall lose someday.
Just like that.