It has been lost for quite some time, and only now do I have the desire to look for it. I've been searching and searching, but I can't find my most prized possession. It seems to have vanished without a trace.
Nevertheless, I am determined to find it, so I continue my search by shuffling through my mental files. I look at pictures of myself with friends; hear the laughter and the immaturity of a teenage outing. I see my mom with a smile on her face, and my brother and me competing at so many Nintendo games. I can feel the excitement and freedom of summer, can feel the butterflies in my stomach over my first crush. I travel back to a time where I actually felt comfortable with the man I called my dad. I can see the sun shining after the storm.
I try to stop the other memories from coming to life again, but I can't. Without warning, I hear screaming and cursing from the two people that gave me life, I see tears rolling down my face and I see violence beyond my wildest dreams. My eyes are that of a five-year-old again and I can feel the pain of watching someone you love in trouble and being powerless to stop it. I hear hurtful words only a child is capable of speaking. I feel the physical pain of losing a loved one, from both death and other reasons. I recall the times I felt it was necessary to exterminate all the people that did me wrong, no matter what our relationship used to be. Extreme emotions take over all rational thought, and I feel torn apart from reality by pure rage and a misunderstanding of what life is all about. All of a sudden, I'm overwhelmed and I can't breathe. I have to stop remembering.
I can no longer ignore the pain of those bad memories. It overrides all my everything good and takes control of my mind. It's obvious to me that I can't think straight at the moment, if ever again. There are too many horrible images flashing before my eyes, too many warnings of what might be letting me know that it's almost impossible to enjoy life ever again.
With that depressing truth becoming clearer and clearer to me, it's right to assume that I will never find my lost possession. It's gone, and all because of those disturbances flashing through my mind. I must face the facts and learn to deal with it somehow.
I've lost my marbles. I have become insane.