Lost But Not Gone

He didn't lose me, so much as I chose to be lost. It is a thing that he must understand about our relationship, a thing I'm not sure he has a full concept of yet. But in time he will learn, and on that day I'm sure he will find me again, exactly where I've been left. Exactly out of sight.

I did not choose to lose myself out of any malice. It was all for protection, after a fashion, though I'm sure he did not know it at the time. I had to be lost so that I could later be found, when the world was right for me. In some ways, I feel as though I'm something magical, unfit for the human world. Too good for this sinful Earth, if I might be allowed my moment of aggrandizement.

We were the closest of friends in our youth, and though we always occupied the same space, I think he knew that I had to go. For the longest time he thought I had died, that the world had managed to take me out behind the proverbial woodshed like a rabid dog. But now he's on his way to being the person who will find me again, in the place we decided I should go; the spot where he eventually forgot I was waiting.

But I'm still here, watching as he grows. His struggles and his trials. His victories and his progress. I watch it all from my hidden place, slowly leaking back into his mind. For that is the space I occupy, a hidden corner where I can see it all and from which I can watch the man he becomes.

I'm proud of him, as I always have been. I think that was what made me have to hide myself away. To lose myself in the warren of his thoughts, in the maze of of his experience.

Despite what people think, despite what their eyes tell them when they see him, so much was unkind. Though not as much as the void I left behind would have had him think. There was goodness there, and I regret my going because it made those moments so much harder for him to see.

Perhaps we made a mistake, he and I, when I hid myself in days gone by. He sits there now, with furrowed brow, trying to understand. I weep to see him there, with his blank and hopeless stare. Then again, I see some hope. He's coming to realize just how much rope he had left, and that he can make it longer if he chooses. If only he can find the strength.

Find, of course, is the word I choose for this. It was always there, hidden in plain sight. Unlike me, he never quite lost it, you see. Because he needed it even when he had forgotten that he ever needed me.

That strength is how he managed to hold on, through all of the difficulties that life threw his way. That strength has always known where I am, and it took all the strength that it could spare to keep me there. Away from things that would tear me down.

Or so we thought. Again, I say, perhaps we made a mistake, my host and I. When we decided that from the world I should fly. That I should hide myself from the slings and arrows the world dished out.

He's met some people, some wonderful folks. The kind we were always promised, the kind whose absence drove me into hiding. People he had given up hope of ever finding. Or so he thought, because I watched him try. I watched him go out into the wider world, and I could not be prouder of who he is. Unless, of course, I had been there from the jump.

Sometimes the other aspects of himself, the ones that grew strong to fill the void I left behind, whisper to him of his mistakes. And frequently my name is on the list, they say that I am dead and seek to overtake his mind with silent dread. A dread to block out the light of sun, and star, and moon. A dread to drive him into a dark cocoon from which there is no hope of his escape.

But Strength was there to whisper in his ear. It was there to guard him from his crippling fear.

Though the way is long and dark, it's important he hear my name. Important that he remembers that I am here, waiting patiently where we agreed that I should stay on that far away and distant day. Neither of us can now recall, exactly what pushed us to take the plunge, to lock up me and forget my name. To forget that I was ever here, long ago in yesteryear.

I've started to whisper to him from my secret spot, to see if his is ready to let me out. To remind him that I never left, only hid from a world of hate. Ran away but not too far. He's remembering me if slowly now. Remembering the boy he was before our fall.

Recalling all the times when I, with words so clever and moves so sly, reached out from my hidden spot, and turned his mind away from rot. For so long there was only darkness, only the memory of pain and loss. Now he's learning how to toss away, the fear that kept me from his thoughts. I'm growing stronger now, nourished by earnest friends.

Soon I think he'll find the will, the courage, the strength to say my name. To open himself again to my direction, to drive out the dark infection that has taken a space in his head that is mine by right. To finally switch on the light and drive back the night. To cleanse my sacred spot for me. He's almost ready to see the truth for what it is.

To know that I never truly left. Like Strength itself I was always there, taking up just enough air. Whispering in his ear, telling him I'm still right here.

Even though I went away, it was only until the proper day. The time when I could re-emerge is nearly come. And on that day, I'll feel the sun. His genuine smile when I come out, will all the sweeter for our time apart.

Still, I wonder if we made the right choice, if I did harm by hiding as I did. If his forgetting I was there made the path he had to walk just that much lonelier and more desolate.

Of course, the past is in the past. There's no going back once we've begun. I'll have to teach him that, to help him learn that there's no way to turn around and start again. But he's learning and important lesson, a way to beat back his own depression. The time is nearly here, away from all the harm from yesteryear. For us to come back together, after nearly 20 years apart.

I'm still waiting for him to see, to remember where he hid me. All that time ago.

But self-love cannot be rushed, there's no magic font from which I gush. There is only the path to where I am, and he's finally walking there. I wish for him every day, to find where he locked me away.

Not quite lost, but unable to be found. I'm waiting here, within the forest of fear. It's almost time.

It's almost time.