Return to Sender
“I’m lost. And it’s my own fault. It’s about time I figured out that I can’t ask people to keep me found.” – Anne Sexton
Whenever I feel lost, I drift into the memories of wandering this campus, carefree and aimless, a blank page looking for a story. It was when not knowing was celebrated; that is, until time crept from the shadows and demanded an answer. I used to cherish the restlessness of my curiosity, but soon I found myself with more questions than clarity. And I found that not knowing was no longer a healthy indication of open-mindedness and growth but rather a symptom of incompetence.
Here I am, three years later, on a campus that feels like a dream I once had. Parts of it has changed – the dining hall that once served questionably edible food has since been replaced by a modern architecture that boasts upscale dining – but it still holds traces of a life I once lived. And while I feel as lost as I did when I called this place home, I find myself grinning with tearful gratitude, an appreciation for the abundance of inspiration and the capacity of realization, on the brink of transformation. Perhaps we need to lose ourselves in order to grow into ourselves,, and in a world that seems to only applaud those who are found, I wonder if the future lies in those who are lost.