I've been searching for days. It's not behind the stove, although I did find some dried up peas and some mouse poop. I can't remember the last time I had peas for dinner because I've lost my mind. It wasn't to be found in the crisper or behind the frostbitten chicken in the freezer. I went to search the medicine cabinet in hope to find "the answer," but my mind was not there.
The pages of my calender fluttered as I passed, but my mind did not float out of the months that had slipped by me. My mind wasn't in the linen closet, underneath the desk, or stored in the shoebox on the shelf where I put valuable things for safekeeping. I don't know where it has gone.
I've lost my mind
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