Art by : 9jedit

I’ve been read the stories; how Little Red Riding Hood runs into the wolf because she is bewitched by the road less traveled by, how “Le Petit Poucet” is lost in the woods trying to find the way home.

Wandering’s bad, I’ve been told.

Nothing good comes out of it.

Keep off the abandoned gardens, stay away from the battered brick house falling apart. Do not try to slide in the silver of space between two houses. Do not go down roads unknown. Do not roam.

“Do not wander,” my mother used to warn me “You will get lost.”

And for many of my most wonderful years, I did not.

When insomnia woke me up in the years between 6 and 10, I did not wander up to the roof. I did not go to see what the night looked like, what the night would feel like on my skin. I never tried to fly my kite at night, to see how it would look like in the moonlight. I watched the dangling keys, out of reach. I looked out from behind barred windows, watched the grass bow to the wind, creating waves and ripples of green. I watched the night unravel, turning into dawn. I stretched out my hand, tried to grab a fistful of night, of lostness in my hand. I inhaled freedom from the curve of my cupped palm.

But it was like smelling flowers that would never be mine. Like trying on someone else’s clothes.

So I imagined other people. Blurry, faceless, and big—towering. How did these people live the night ? What kind of world was out there beyond my reach, separated by a single door ? What dangerous life could there be that would leave no trace come the next morning, soft and dewy ? How—how could the night be bad if it looked so beautiful ?

I think somewhere, we’ve been robbed of the idea of lostness. How enchanting it can be, how in lostness many wonderful paths can be uncovered, explored. How, in lostness, one finds pieces of oneself.

I want to reclaim that lostness doused in fear and caution.

I would like to be showered in night. To let the stars, the milky way and all the worlds beyond engulf me.

I want to roam the countryside, to ride bicycles down dirt roads that lead to the middle of nowhere. I want to climb trees and roll down hills and see for myself just how deep that creek really is.

I want to wander and I want to be lost.

Maybe I’m not a Little Red Riding Hood. Maybe I’m not a “Petit Poucet”. Maybe I’m a Little Prince, who visits planets and talks to strange kings and businessmen. Maybe I’m a Little Prince who tames foxes, who speaks to snakes and makes friends of stranded aviators.





2 thoughts on “Lostness”

  1. Inspiring (genuinely) – I’ve always been afraid of night, darkness, the unknowns, the future, choices, being alone with myself…
    Someone who feels pretty lost most of the time and is usually afraid of it, but wants to learn to embrace it

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I don’t know, to be honest, whether all of that fear is innate or not. I wonder a lot now whether a sizable part of that fear og lostness is not taught. Whether it’s not self-preservation that was blown out of proportion. I am truly happy if this has helped you in any way, though. Thank you for reading, Kait ❤ And all the best on your journey, I am looking forward to reading about it on your blog ^^


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