Lost

It sort of just hit me that,
Really, who am I?
And for a moment I just sat there,
Breathless, empty
Suddenly aware that
I really am no one.
 
Maybe that was the moment
That my life fell apart
In a state of panic because
I didn’t have a true identity
I wasn’t a character in that story
That story in my head
Because I didn’t have enough character.
 
So, I took a deep breath
Told myself to build from the ground up
Silently huffing “Things will be fine,” again and again
Even though I know I’m lying.
 
And here I am, drifting away from reality still
In that lost world
Or those lost worlds, I should say.
I see them every day
Drifting like clouds over my head and weaving through the passages in my mind
I’ll try to catch them sometimes, clenching as many as I can at a time
Capture them on paper
And before I know it, there’s volume after volume of
Clouds, occupying notebook after notebook.
They come in cottony stratocumulus occasionally,
Other times ominous cumulonimbus
Often the distorted cirrus
Or cirrocumulus
Maybe even enigmatic noctilucent.

And I found myself, there
In that land of
Fragmented fairytales.

 

Alexandra Blake

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