I think I’m lost.

Not in the conventional map bearing sense where you aren’t sure which way is north and which exit you need to take because the big green signs aren’t saying the one small hole-in-the-wall town you are trying to get to.

Lost- as if the roads inside of me that lead to who I am got twisted and tangled into one big knot. The town of Who I Am is still inside, I can feel it reaching out, trying to figure out just where in my soul they are, and I want to help. I want to take hours to untangle the mess of roads and slowly, step by step, road by road, find out just where Who I Am is hiding.

There are a few things I definitely know. There is poetry inscribed on buildings, on the streets, and floating in the air, surrounding the inhabitants in the words that flow through my veins. I also know there is always music- songs with words that you feel in your heart and songs with no words at all, just a single piano or violin that haunts your memory in the best way possible.

But other than that, Who I Am is a world of uncertainty. I would like to start to find it, to explore it, to discover Who I Am. I used to know, but then the roads and the world around me changed. I am unsure of everything, even my own handwriting. Things don’t make much sense. I have ideas of Who I Am, but how am I supposed to know if they are true or just false pretenses? My only hope is that through Solitude, my only friend, I will discover new paths to Who I Am, and finally reach it, confident and full of life.

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