Lost and Found

I lost myself in normal ways—

in other people’s calendars,

in “sure, I can do that,”

in the bright blur of being useful.

﹁﹂

Somewhere between rent and reply-all

My laugh changed shape.

I started speaking softer,

like my voice was a glass

I didn’t trust anyone to hold.

﹁﹂

Then last night, in the hallway,

I heard myself talking to the cat—

full sentences, ridiculous affection—

And it startled me

How familiar I sounded.

﹁﹂

Not the polished version,

not the “I’m fine” version,

But the one who makes up songs

about empty food bowls

and forgets to be cool.

﹁﹂

I found old notes in a drawer,

scribbled grocery lists,

a half-poem,

a phone number I never called.

My handwriting was messy

and kind of brave.

﹁﹂

I said my own name out loud

just to test the room.

It didn’t crack.

It didn’t echo like shame.

﹁﹂

Maybe that’s what finding is:

not fireworks,

just a small recognition—

Oh, there you are—

and the decision

to stop misplacing yourself

on purpose.