I felt lost even though I knew where I was. This is my body, this is my surrounding, but where am I? I was scared and thrown and helpless almost, but I was okay with it. I was okay with being lost. I wanted to be. I was drawn to it, the welcomed hopelessness, and so I ran with it. I was running through a foreign forest, black and endless. I plowed through the undergrowth and trampled fallen branches. They snapped and cracked with every leap, but the sound was buried beneath my angered breaths. I was not running to or from anything. I was just running to run.
Aside: Once you run in the dark long enough, you realize you are not lost at all. You always know exactly where you are: in the dark.
I was running with my eyes closed when I stumbled upon reality. I am the forest. I am black and endless. I fall in the dirt and rise in the dirt. My limits know no bounds. I loved being lost. I became comfortably familiar with being lost until one day lost was not even lost anymore.
FLASH FLASH FLASH SPIN SPIN SPIN
I had it once, the whole passion thing, and I'm crossing my fingers - the same fingers that let something amazing fall right through them - to have it again.
- Alexander McCurdy
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