What I Became


Sometimes, I get lost.

That's not so bad...
most of the time. 
Most of the time, I get lost on accident. 
I get preoccupied with the world around me and forget to focus on what needs to be done.
I lose sight, for just a few moments.
I seem to get lost rather frequently this way. 
But sometimes,
every once in a while,
I get lost on purpose.
Sometimes I think that if I get lost then maybe I won't have to think.
Maybe my worries and torments will get lost too.
Maybe if I say we need some distance, we could branch off on different paths. 
Maybe for a few seconds, I could crawl out of the hole I've made for myself.
Maybe I wouldn't have to come back.
But I know I do.
So I meet up with my worries at the first glimpse of light, 
and we go back, hand in hand.
I survive only on the moments of being lost.
It's too much a part of me to let go.
I guess it's who I've become.
This poem is about: 


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