Lately I have been feeling as if I have lost myself somehow, along the way.
This, I regretfully admit, is not an unfamiliar feeling, I am careless.
In the past I have been discovered sitting under trees, or once on a park bench, patiently waiting to be reclaimed.
However, this time I suspect that I am unrecoverable.
I fear I have fallen off of the edge.
I considered putting out a Wanted ad...
"Wanted: Complete persona, in good condition. Second hand acceptable, in fact pre-loved preferable".
Or something in the Personals, "Girl, seeks understanding of self".
But responses to previous, similar enquiries have proved quite strange.
Clearly not the path to take.
I am finding, these days, that the only time I understand myself remotely, is when I am explaining myself to others.
Hearing the words float from my mouth, I recognise them, vaguely. Reach out and catch them. Store them away.
I am re-learning me.
This is what I have so far.
Beginning from the beginning...a strange place really. To begin, I mean. My memories, so far as I can recall, travelled backwards., cycling rapidly in reverse toward the end. Or the beginning.
No matter, these first are not memories. Merely things I must remember.
I am born wrong.
Pale and small.
Limbs splayed awkwardly in all the wrong directions.
Fists clenched tight.
And I have scarcely the sense to breathe.
Entwined in tubes, placed in a box.
First breath, tastes like plastic. And saline.
To this day, I am a claustrophobe.
Here is a happy thought, the kind to fly with.
My father wheels himself out into the corridor, faces the expectant faces.
"It..it...it's a baby!"
"It's a baby". That was always my favourite bit.