Lost and Found

I somehow made it back. I checked into all the places I may have dropped myself. I called up every 1-800 number. I taped descriptions of myself on every corner, hoping someone would recognize me.

Hoping someone would know the carefree, smart, and personable spirit I left behind. Hoping a single detail would ring a bell. That one person would be able to point me in the right direction.

I searched and searched, hit road block after road block. I almost gave up on finding the most treasured part about me. I was so far into darkness no amount of despair could dig me out.

I’m saying that I was lost. I was so lost I could barely see if the hand that reached out in front of me was my own. I was so lost I couldn’t tell who’s brain was telling this body breath. I was stuck at the bottom of a well, tired of clawing my way out, tired of screaming for help, that I’d just curled up and waited to die.

I walked aimlessly around life being identified by everyone around me but was unable to identify myself.

Do you know what I’m saying? I was lost.

Then one day, I walked into a building and no one knew me. I walked in a stranger. But the words that flew out of my mouth sounded so familiar. I followed that with a wit undeniable, a smile so incredibly natural.

A single spark flickered in the distance, that tunnel only needed one, and my eyes lit up. My soul got up from the bottom of that well and fought to stay alive. I heard a name called from the top and recognized it as mine.

What I’m saying is, I’m found… and I am so afraid to be lost again.

Gena

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