I need to go out for a while, I’ve lost something.
I seem to remember having it last week, but I think I lost it somewhere, although I don’t remember where. Nor do I remember exactly when I lost it. What it looks like I don’t know, and what it feels like is also a mystery. Sometimes I wonder if I ever had it to begin with, but apparently I did, because we are all supposed to have it. When I find it, I promise to return, but please let me go for now.
I do know this much; it sounds like a small child. A small child crying for help. I lose it quite often, and when I search for it, I have to look long and hard to find it. I wish I could have some help finding it, because I barely know where to look sometimes. The person that is ‘supposed’ to look after it also has troubles, as it runs away very easily without him knowing. Ironically, it doesn’t like being alone, but isolates itself quite easily, which makes me panic because I’d rather not lose it.
When I hear it cry for help I wonder why it runs away in the first place, but how do you teach a child to be responsible? It reminds me of when I was a child. I cannot scald her because I know she won’t learn that way. But then again, I don’t think she could ever be controlled… she’s like a free spirit. People think I’m mad when I tell them I’ve lost her. They just don’t realise how free she can be…
She doesn’t make friends easy, which might explain why she’s so scared and alone. But when she does make a friend, she smiles. When she has company she smiles uncontrollably. And so do I. Because it never happens often and I know she is truly happy. Her mere happiness makes me cry with joy.
But she’s a handful. Ask anyone she knows well. They’ll be able to tell you that when she goes missing, she not only runs further than you could possibly imagine, but also hurts herself. She owns a scar for every time she has run away; she’s stopped counting. I never could understand why she would do this to herself, and she remains silent when I ask her about it. I remember one particular time she ran away. She went missing for days… all I could hear as I looked for her was the sound of her voice. She was singing to herself as if nothing was wrong. I remember getting really angry with her when I found her, and she began to cry… and so did I. I’ve never forgiven myself for that one thing I did to her… because I gave her the scar that day.
And now she has gone again. She’s too far for me to hear her singing, that is, if she is singing. And I cannot call out her name… because she does not own one. She dislikes being labelled and it also appears as if she dislikes being found.
I sometimes fool myself into thinking she can fly. I wonder how she can get so far, in such little time. I never used to worry about her as much as I do now, but I’m so scared of losing her, that I’d do anything to find out if she’s safe. I guess I need her to live… because she makes me what I am. She gives me the freedom of speech I so rightly own. She gives me the courage to love. She gives me the strength to live. That’s why I need her. She needs me as much as I need her.
I hear crying…
