Where Did I Go?

By: Dynasty Roque

When I look in the mirror, I want to run. A stranger stares back and I fear for my safety. When people say that word. Dynasty? I find myself almost saying there's nobody here by that name.

Missing posters don't work as well as I had hoped. Flipping through albums only cause more heartache. Because I do remember her. She used to wish on the stars. Wishing they'd take her to see the world. Like looking for a lost puppy, I search. Small soul, big world. I don't like my odds.

Starlight, star bright, did you take her away in the night?

I couldn't think of a reward.

Is that why nobody bothered to answer?

So I will take in this water in the hopes that it will drown out the intruder, but, please don't rip me from the safety of the shore. I can't swim as well as she could. But the problem is, Is there even a piece of me left? Or am I lost completely?

Maybe it was the ones who left, taking pieces of me as a keepsake. I guess they didn't know that I needed them a bit more. Personalities don't make very good carry ons. But then again, I think we need to go back further. Turn back the hands of the clock.

Tick...

Tock...

Maybe it was when my curls hit the floor, losing something of myself. Scissors cut away at them, I watched as they were swept up into something else. Going to someone who needed them more than I did. Go back. Delve deeper. When was the first time you looked at your reflection and was at a loss for emotion?

Snip...

Snip...

Snip...

Wait, now. I think I know when it happened. It was when I left them. Giving everyone a souvenir to remember me by. But, I stretched myself too thin. Too many people, not enough memories. I resorted to giving them pieces of me.

My laughter to the one who made me smile. Remember good times at the lunch table? My trust to the one who pretended to be my friend. Remember how she ran and expected you to follow, like you always did? My voice to the one who helped me discover it. Remember how she told you louder, louder until they can't ignore you? The violinist in me to the one who helped me through the labyrinth of notes and strings. Remember the Lindsey Stirling you were going to become? The little artist in me to the one who helped me pick up the pencil. Remember how she pushed you until you felt like your hand was going to go numb? My fire to the one lit the flame. Remember how they- no. I can't. I can't remember anymore...

Giving...

Giving...

Giving...

Until there is nothing left. Like a flower after a child picks away the petals. Every he loves me, he loves me not. I am nothing but a stem. The fragile petals carried on by a breeze to who knows where.

That. That's where I went.