There was a time when I felt lost—not in this world but in my own world, which was more terrifying. I often heard familiar sounds that pull me back to in, that haunt me and stop me from moving forward. They scare me. I did not know then if I was the only one who went through that kind of self-tragedy, but one thing was for sure then; I told myself that I will refuse to stay in that dark room, no matter what happens. I will find my way out. I will find myself again.
I did not know when that feeling started. I just woke up feeling alone and empty, as if I was dead inside. It felt like a huge part of me was missing. I knew something was wrong, but I was too tired to look for it. I also didn't know where I should start searching, looking. Should I go right or left, upward or downward, out there or within me?
Then I found myself crying until there was no more tear left to shed, until I just sat down quietly, until I stared at nothing, and until I felt sorry for myself because I thought I was defeated, a coward.
I had these questions battling for their own space inside my head. They all demanded answers, but I was way too empty to be able to answer all of them. I did not know how to find myself again and how to find that lost part of myself.
Until, a flicker of light sparked inside me. I think it was what we called hope. I remember it now, clearly. It was something I could hold on to. It was something that led me to believe in something again and decide to be strong. I allowed to be pulled out of this hole by a hand strong enough to get me out. It was familiar, scarred but strong—a hand that was my own.
For a while, I was lost. But now I am found. I was able to find the person I lost by allowing the new me to pull it out of darkness.