People are drawn to each other through similarities. Troubles draw troubles, what you think of most eventually manifests, and though it can be easy to say that it's bad to have someone as troubled as you, sometimes it's the best thing for you.
Things don't need to be perfect to be exactly what you need.
I'm lost. It's like when you play Hide and Seek, and you find a brilliant hiding spot, and at first you're triumphant, you know no-one's going to find you. But as time ambles by, you start wondering if maybe they forgot about you, maybe they finished the game without you, maybe you hid too well.
You start feeling a little claustrophobic, scared, angry, you know you've been hiding too long but the thought of going back into the game and forfeiting worries you. So you sit, and you stay lost, and if you were anything like the child I was, you stayed lost all afternoon, until the neighbourhood went quiet and you realise maybe that you won, but you're still lost.
So you stumble out of your hiding spot, confused and nervous, the light too bright to your darkened, bleary eyes, cobwebs in your hair and dirt on your hands, and you can't quite shake the feeling of being lost. Even after you find your way to your house, and wash all the dust off you, and crawl into your bed, you feel lost and tired and cold.
Because being lost is a little intoxicating, it's quite lovely to hide away from all the horrid things that happen and uncomfortable silences and unpleasant situations, and pretend time is frozen and nothing matters.
I don't want to be found by someone who isn't lost too. So when walking around in a cold city, numb and cold and bleary eyed, I don't want to be found by The Seeker. Another lost person is quite enough, we'll hold hands and anchor each other to the ground so we don't float away, and then sometime we won't be lost anymore, because we crawled out of our own little hiding place on our own, nobody had to find us and drag us out and cut short our hibernation.
Being lost never was a bad thing.
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