Being lonely at night, in a two storied house with two bedrooms and a bathroom, one can somehow get the feeling that he is, in fact, kinda lost.
Lost in his loneliness. Lost in a place no one is seeing. Lost in a place some people would call depressive.
Somehow, I simply love being lost. Being lost sometimes can force me to think, and when I am forced to think, I will simply move. When I move, no one can stop time till I got exhausted or I simply lost the drive behind what I do.
Lately I have been thinking that I lost something that keeps me going. But after awhile, I came to the conclusion that I didn’t lose anything, I simply burdened by something I am kinda opposite to. That something is growing up. Become responsible. Become planner for the future. Prepare self for making a family.
For some, growing up could simply mean becoming lost in a world that they have never know how to adapt. For me, growing up is a progress I need to take slow.
But the world has never allowed me to go slow and force me to stroll along in a continuous path. Move here, do that, do this, come here, go there, up, down, left, right, stay, move.
After thinking for awhile, I come to conclusion that I somehow need to get lost. To shed myself of the burden of growing up and take responsibility. For awhile, not forever. Little time to find my core, to truly root myself to something stable.
To truly know who I am and what I need to be, I need to be lost.
To seek guidance from within, I need to let go of the hands that have been holding me.
To truly become me, I need to undo my current self.
I need to become The Lost.