Dear Lost,

Listen to a beautiful song, so beautiful it saddens you, brings a tear or two to your eyes. Listen to a song so sad, it crushes you on the inside, then listen to a happy, cheerful song, and laugh hysterically at your dismay.

And sooner than your tears dry up on the fallacious smile your face has, somehow, depicted, you think, then believe, that you're lost. You dress up, drink a beverage of your choice, known for its mood-altering ability and head on your way.

On the road to your destination, you take a look at the sky, and it almost always doesn't suit your mood, but occasionally does, when you really want it to. Then, a thought driven memory cuts through you, slices your soul, bringing it down, leaving you hollow for the day.

Your troubled mind mumbles a loud "nobody cares anyway" only to be outdone by another song. Another beautiful rose in a musical garden. But this rose, you wore for a while, you had it in your hair or pinned it to your shirt, and never went a day without it. You are now without it.

You listen and see that your blood on its thorns has not dried yet. And you cry. The second regret sits where your soul once was, you're jolted by a friend so full of life, regret scurries back the saddest corner of your heart. You wear that old smile again and greet the friend.

"I wish..." you interrupt your soul's shy, muffled, cries for help.

Dear Lost,

Make a wish for a change, for you are human, and should find no shame in a wish. It will come true, sooner or later, I promise. Lost is a path, not a place. Lost is a path to your dreams, what you wish.

Dear Lost,

You're not lost, and I am your friend.

Wessam.

Listen.