The Good Kind of Lost

I don’t know what I’m searching for in life. Sometimes I feel as if I’m walking in the right direction, yet other times, I feel so far. I’ve got a great life, don’t get me wrong. I recently moved into my own place. I actually pay rent and have my own room now! So, things are good. I’m exploring a new city and get lost all the time. Even so, it’s never a scary sort of lost. It’s always a “hey! I now I know where the Target is!” kind of lost. It’s the good kind of lost.

I guess that my life is sort of in the same kind of mode right now. I’m lost, but it’s a good kind of lost- a self-discovery kind of lost. I don’t really know who I am at the moment. Some days I identify with the old, innocent self, yet those times are getting more few and far between. I don’t think that I am that girl anymore. Part of me wants to be. I mean, I feel like I should be that good little girl again who does what is right, what she is told to do. She always tried to do the right thing, and she didn’t mess around in dangerous areas. But, I know that that girl is gone, and will never come back. It’s okay. I sort of mourn her loss, but there are things about the new girl that I like too. This girl has a tougher shell. She knows how to keep her heart unattached so that she won’t be hurt when the boy stops calling. She knows that when it comes to relationships, often less is more. She knows that she can’t hang on to people, but can only be thankful for the times that they are in her life. She’s even learning how to be on her own, stand on her own two feet. If it wasn’t for her, I would have felt so lonely during my first days in the new house.

Well that’s not entirely true. A lot of it was due to the fact that I have amazing friends and family who kept me company. My mom, great grandmother, and best friend all sent me letters in the mail. One of my girlfriends even came to visit me during my first weekend! In addition, the cast of my last show has been amazing. We’ve had Skype dates, the aforementioned visit, and plenty of text messages. As strange as it seemed to me, an old friend, who I never thought I’d be close to again, messaged me every day to see how I was doing and to keep me company. He really was the one person to keep up with me each and every day. It’s meant more to me than I think he knows. I realized that I never really knew him before. This is how I know that God is good. He does so much for someone such as me, who is the least worthy of all of His children. He provides company for me when I am in a strange place, and he allowed me to reunite with someone who has always lived in a special place in my heart. Even now as I write this, feeling a little lonely, a friend sends a poem that brings warmth to my heart. Nice timing, God. As always.

 

Dreaming While Awake

Have you ever felt as if you are living in some sort of restless dream? It’s not quite a nightmare, but it’s not really a good dream either. I awaken every morning to a different, sad country song playing in my head, but I’m never really awake. The couch that is now my bed is hard and doesn’t allow for much real slumber. I drift in and out between nightmares and moments where my brain tortures me with embarrassing memories that I’d rather forget.

Even the daytime is strange and surreal. I step from my bedroom, which really isn’t mine anymore, but my sister’s, and walk into the empty house, much bigger than I remember it being. I look in each room, hoping that maybe someone is here today. No. It’s empty, just as it was yesterday. Even the refrigerator holds no note for me. The phone rings, and I rush to answer it, but it is only a recorded message, asking me if I want to win a free…click. I hang up the phone. Even I haven’t sunk low enough to need the voice of a recording.

Or maybe I do. I like to keep the TV on, or listen to music, because it kills the silence. The silence is broken only by the sound of the washing machine and dryer. There is another load of whites to be done after this one.

I’m leaving in a week, or rather, a week and a day. Friends are busy saying goodbye, yet, I’ve never felt so alone. I tell myself every day that it is good to be alone, because when I leave, I will be alone all of the time, especially at first.

You ask, why are you leaving, then, if you are so miserable? I ask that question too. Well, it had to happen sometime, right? I mean, I could have stayed nestled in my little comfort zone for a few years longer, but I’m realized lately that I’m outgrowing my pouch. I need to find a new place that can hold me, even when that means leaving the only safety I’ve ever known. It’s a gamble really. I’m trading my security (and possibly happiness), at a shot at doing bigger things, finding who I really am, finishing my education, and being happier in a new and greater situation. Of course, those are all the things I will win if the gamble goes my way. I’m not going to ponder the other side of that bet.

I’ve alienated one of the closest people in my world so that I can protect the both of us from the separation. This is a dry run. He sulks, I sit home and endure the loneliness. I’ve learned that I’ll never be happy with things as they are between us. There are still so many things I need to do with my life before I’m ready to share my life with just one person. Maybe he doesn’t get that. I know he doesn’t get that. But that’s alright. I’m protecting him now, and maybe he’ll thank me someday for the cushion I’ve given him.

At the same time, all is not dark. I rediscovered a dream that I had lost. The dream came in the form of a childhood character that I had created on paper and who lived in my mind and heart. Somehow, he escaped from the paper and I met him in life. Of course, my feet are still on the ground enough to know that it can’t be as magical as it seems, but…there are moments… There are moments like the one where I discovered a sketch that I had drawn as a child, and was startled because the boy in life and the boy from my stories have the same face, that I gave the boy the same face, name, and traits as a boy I would meet seven years later.

But these things cannot be real. They are merely dreams, dreams that just happen to take place while I am awake, dreams that I can share with those around me. This is why I fear I must be dreaming while awake. My whole life right now is one long, never-ending vision. I want to wake up, yet at the same time, if I do, I lose the magic of the dream, and return to the same reality that I was in before. The bottom line is that I’ve been bored for so long now. I feel that if I can just reach out beyond this living dream, that I will be able to break through into a part of life that I’ve never touched before. I’m holding out for something greater, but first, I must endure the dream.