The Lost Girl Was Meant To Be Found
The lost girl was meant to be found, for she herself holds precious and wondrous things the world has yet to see. She was born with raindrops in her eyes, but like broken china, she cries until all that’s left are fissures of light.
Happy! The word slipped out the moment I awoke, before I could help myself. I wake up each morning, hearing the birds sing and the echoes of sighing angels, and perhaps it’s not where I belong, the beauty of my new surroundings have me watching, listening, and learning.
With time, the past feels like nothing more than a lost memory, as I learn to adapt to life in these new surroundings. I never would have thought there was anything beautiful about waking up in a such an unfamiliar place. With every dawn that breaks through the dark sky, I’m thankful that I’m still alive to appreciate the gifts that I’ve been given.
Daybreak is one of the few things that reminds me of the places I used to call home. After night falls again and sleep pulls at my weary eyes, the night is where it’s most beautiful. Everything fades into blackness until only stars shine overhead to illuminate the landscape below. Countless lights too distant for anyone to know their origins, yet in these hours I can’t feel the weight of regret or loneliness. In these hours, I don’t want to be anywhere else in all creation.
Others may be afraid of what awaits them on those lonely nights, but not me. It’s an almost bittersweet love affair with a sky so vast and vibrant it swallows me whole, leaving no room for memories of the life I left behind. It’s alright if I stay here forever, entranced by the starlight.
People see beauty all around them but many of us are too afraid to see it ourselves. What once felt vain now feels empowering; knowing your own worth allows you to give it away freely and receive with open arms. When someone compliments you, know that there is truth in those words, even if they don’t feel true at first. Knowing your worth leads to more confidence and less self-doubt when it comes to other people’s opinion of you. This is because
you will no longer rely on them for validation.
I went to bed every night asking god to, “send me an angel… right now”. All I wanted was for someone to listen to me, to love me, or to simply understand. The days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into months and the months turned into years and still no one came. I felt like the lost girl in a story who only had herself and her dog for company. When you have nothing else but yourself and your dog, it’s really hard to find peace because you’re constantly waiting for something that will never come.
I spent hours in my room writing, and painting pictures in my mind of what life could be like if there were people around me who actually cared about what happened to me. Some nights would go by where the moon never set and all the stars would be out shining brightly, reminding me of how alone I was and how much I need help from somebody other than myself. One day I found her, and she helped me find my way home.
Home is not the place where you live, but rather the place where you belong. A homesick mind is a lost one, or so they say. The home of your heart and spirit is not in your environment, but in your own happy place. As much as I try to find comfort in my surroundings there’s always that sinking feeling that I am alone, and I’m nothing more than a shadow haunting these empty halls with no ambition for anything greater.
What I need is to be outside under the sun without fear of being judged by what my past has done to me. I need to be free and forget about everything else before it becomes too heavy on my chest. I need to feel alive.
To a girl on the edge of her memories, time is nothing but a swinging pendulum. Too long I have hidden in a place where tears can’t touch my skin, where pain can’t twist my stomach into knots.
But this morning, as the sun broke through thick clouds and light danced off dew drops like stars on water, I stepped from that dark hole of solitude into a new and wonderful land. Like stretching muscles after too long without use, my feet touched ground with tentative steps; but now that I’ve left behind all that was dark and desolate for a world full of possibilities, does it really matter if the memories die?
I know it’s not just me. I see the lost girl in my wife, too. I remember when she too lost what she loved most. Then again, maybe things happen for a reason because neither of us would be who we are today without these experiences that broke both of us down. I don’t believe in regrets because everything has happened to both of us for a reason, and we are shaped by our experiences.
There will always be a part of me that will to remain here forever, and always, no matter what. I may have the scars on my skin but I also have the scars on my heart and in my soul. They are not as visible as the ones on my body but they never truly go away. I have broken free from the ties that used to bind, and the constant cycle of self-destruction, as it was all I truly knew. But now, looking back, I see the pain and confusion in which those days were created.
It is then when day breaks and the lost girl inside wakes up with wings unfurled and reaches out towards heaven like she’s touching everything she loves; as long as she has these blessings of love shining down on her.
The image used in this piece is titled Angel Standing By.
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This was so beautifully written. I’m so glad you’ve found your home.
Thank you, Suzanne! I’ve finally found my home and the love of my life!