I wanted to run away. I didn’t want to be here, I said. “Where is here?”, a voice echoes back to me. My mind, swimming in forsaken thoughts…I couldn’t even answer that. I feel a gush of wind roll down my back. I exhale a long sigh of: “I don’t know.” I don’t know what I’m doing. To be honest with you reader, I’m lost. Not the good lost where you’re mentally aware of a way out. It’s the hopeless dark evanescent kind of lost. The one where you’re at a breaking point and you know all you’ve got is yourself and the loneliness of that truth. That kind of lost. People, things, places they up and leave; a loss no one can see coming sometimes. But of all the things, yes, of all the things I’ve lost I miss my mind the most. Lost. I don’t really