Losing My Way



October 18, 2015

I’ve been down this road before. I’m sure of it. I know it the way I know I love summer storms and chocolate covered strawberries and the color blue. Yet for some reason as I look around, nothing looks even vaguely familiar to me.

The road itself is one of those dirt covered roads; the kind of road you drive along and wonder how it could possibly be wide enough to fit two passing cars traveling in opposite directions without resulting in a head-on collision. It’s the kind of road that sends clouds of dust swirling into the air each time it is disturbed by a passing car’s tires.

I’ve been walking for what feels like several miles, but I haven’t seen even one car pass by. I haven’t seen a house, or any type of life whatsoever. Occasionally, I hear the effervescent song of a wren, but there are no other sounds except the soft thump of my own footsteps as I make my way along the dusty road.images

On either side of the narrow road, large trees bend slightly inwards so that their tops touch in the center of the road and form a sort of golden tunnel. Sunlight filters through the leaves, casting a soft golden glow that makes me feel as though I stepped into some type of surreal painting. Under normal circumstances I would find this soothing and even beautiful, and I might be tempted to stop walking and photograph the wondrous beauty that surrounds me.

Today, however, it fills me with an inexplicable sense of dread, as though I have survived something catastrophic that no one else in the world has managed to escape. I breathe deeply, trying to calm my nerves as I walk along. The sun is lower in the sky now, and I know that it won’t be long before darkness descends. I try to ease the anxious thoughts that are starting to consume me by rationalizing that somewhere on this lonely stretch of road there must be a house, or a car that will pass by at any moment.

I shiver in the crisp autumn air, wrapping my arms around myself in an attempt to keep warm. I try not to allow my mind to wander, knowing that I must concentrate on finding my way home.

It’s at this moment when the looming panic hits me with such a force I can’t catch my breath. I stop walking and place my hand over my mouth to contain a sudden urge to scream as I realize I don’t know where home is. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how I got here.

I don’t even know who I am.


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