The thing about being lost.

A Letter that I’ll never send…

I’m alright because you’re not gone. Never were. Never could be. I’m alright because I know when there are nights like these when I’m not so sure where I am, I can always be sure that there is a me somewhere, where you’re there; and there where you are, I’m with you. In your heart, or perhaps on your sleeve. In your dreams ,or maybe tucked away with the rest of the memories you don’t want to remember just yet. But I know you. And I know you’ve put me somewhere.  And I know if I ever need a piece of me back, I could call I probably shouldn’t but I know I can always call. I trust that you’ll keep me safe, I know you love what you’ve kept. I know you cradled it like a child, carefully, whole-heartedly, with every intent to keep it alive…

Did I mention that I was sorry?

Only a thousand times in my head. Although maybe not enough out loud. Sometimes I fight against the urge to call, so you could hear it out loud. But then my voice would tremble, wouldn’t it? And you’d see the gloss over my eyes and ask me why to questions that I’ve long given up trying to answer. Or rather, trying to explain the answer to. I know you. I know your eyes and your hair and your grin and the way you’d get an, ‘I love you’ out of me, against my will; my better judgment, the way you weaken them both, the same way you’ve weakened my knees so many times before. It would all be the same.

But this is good. You are somewhere. and I am also with you, wherever that somewhere is. And there’s an empty confused little girl staring at her computer screen, droopy eyed, at 2am, trying to figure out who she is without her best friend to tell her so. And this is good. This is lost. And lost gets found.

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