Missing

I am missing. 

I have been missing for a long time. No one seems to realize that I'm gone. My image does not appear on a milk carton; nor is it on a flier taped to a shop window with a date indicating when I was last seen. No one is looking for me.

You might ask when I first disappeared. I cannot say for sure. I believe it to have been a gradual thing. At some point I decided to explore a path looking for a Grand New Adventure and, well, with one thing leading to another, I have wandered too far. Taken too many wrong turns. I no longer know where I am. Why I am here.

Who I am. 

I look in the mirror and I don't know that face. I squint, wondering if the distorted image will morph into something I recognize. I smile, baring teeth, the top lip slightly bigger than the lower, but that is only noticeable when I don't smile. A hint of dimples that I'd hoped would deepen, but didn't. I smile bigger and lean forward to stare into eyes so dark there appear to be no pupils. There is such sadness that lives there. So easily missed by the smile. Are those my eyes? Have they always been this way?

I look around me and think, "this is not my beautiful life." This world I have created around me is so far from what I had imaged. And I think, "I am missing. I have lost my way. Who am I? Where do I go next?"