Lost

As a kid in the grocery store with my mother, I would wait until she turned and run off. I have always found freedom in being lost. My deepest instinct is to wander, and to cut loose of all ties but ones to the earth. Even ties to people mean you can never be lost, and therefore never truely be free. Someone will always be looking, just like mom did in the white aisles when I was young. When someone is looking for you, your instinct is muddied by their own desires to have you return to them and fall back in step with the day to day. Maybe we are all trapped here somewhere between lost and found. Somewhere between the world created and the world still ours to create. And maybe this is why so many of us are broken, injured trying to break free, no longer able to hear what's inside, having to buy glimpses of it in a bottle or pill. We don't want to be found, but we've forgotten how to get lost, how to fall out.

I've never understood the way people say, "she's a lost soul" as if it's a bad thing. Lost is better than found, it is undefinable, it is natural. Souls should be lost. That's how they're meant to be. Souls should not be boxed and labelled and found neatly in the corner. Souls should be messy like life. They should be scattered. They should follow the beat of the individual heart, and the sway of the wind. If someone were to tell me I was a lost soul, I'd likely take it as a compliment.