A Story in Progress, part one. Braided essay format.

She had lost it.

Similar to the way one looses her keys or her hat; she had forgotten. It was as if she had set it down, only for a moment, turned away at the call of her name...only to find it gone. She didn't lose it on purpose, she hadn't even been aware she was at risk of losing it, but here she was and it was gone.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster 

of lost door keys, the hour badly spent. 

The art of losing isn’t hard to master. 

Elizabeth Bishop knew how it was. How easy it is to lose all the things that you hold onto as if your life depends on them. This isn't a new experience for our subject, she lost things every minute. But this time there was no one to help her find what was lost. No one knew how she had lost it and no one understood where it could have gone. Much like the keys set down on a table. Poof. As if they never existed. 

"Keys, where are my keys?"

"I'll look, give me your purse. Give me your purse! Let me look. It's faster if I do it."

Her daughter had long ago stopped playing the game. When she had been little they would laugh about how quickly items disappeared in the house. They would joke and blame the dog, blame the elves, blame the angels. But eventually the truth was found and continued to show up during the searches. The truth was, the items weren't lost. They were forgotten. And this caused fear in her daughter's heart. 

Growing up doesn't cause children to lose faith in magic.

No, it's the presence of reality sinking in

opening their eyes to the truth.

Truth drives out the magic-

emptying them .

It is important to note some children empty faster than others.

This is Why No One Writes Songs About Being 23

"What do you want?"
"What can I get you?"
"What are you doing?"
"What are you looking for?"
"What things are you interested in for your future?"


I'm 23 and these are the five questions that are controlling my life. Lately this is how I've been answering them.


"A sandwich."
"That sandwich."
"Watching my life fall apart at the hands of fate."
"A nice billionaire who can allow me to not have to make big life altering decisions that will haunt me forever...or a nice, funny, cute guy."
"I just need a job, okay? I can't think about the next hour without needing to find the nearest couch and roll into a ball; don't ask about my future."


Or at least that is how I would answer them if my life was a teen movie/sitcom and I was the quirky, loudmouth girl who says everything that pops into her head. But its not. This is not a Netflix comedy and my answers mean something; so why can't I think of any?


The first people I blame are adults. The ones who say "You can be anything you want if you work hard enough."


This is not true. Here's a list of everything I can't be no matter how hard I try.

1. Any animal that's not a human
2. An act of nature; storms, cloud, etc.
3. An type of plant life
4. A priest

And lastly, a mathematician.


Look parents, past teachers, and strangers on the street! Right there! There are five things I cannot be, so lets stop telling people that they can be anything. But, I know this isn't all your fault.


Most of the blame falls on my head.


I believed you. I seriously thought that if I worked hard enough I could be anything...and believing that made me imagine every possibility so that I no longer know which path to take. There are too many roads untraveled, I want the one that will make the difference. But it has to be the right difference.


I need to know which path will lead to happiness, to success, to my own personal utopia. There are just too many paths, too many possible dead ends that I'm scared to even choose left or right.


I'm 23. I've reached what I used to consider "adulthood." I'm supposed to be running my life and know all the answers, at least that's what I used to believe, so why am I constantly being questioned. Why am I constantly plagued by questions? When does it get easier? How long are people so unsure? And lastly what...is your quest?