The bed was unkempt from a lazy day of nothingness.

An uneccessary amount of pillows covered the bed,

Five, to be exact.

Not to mention the body pillow she held tightly to in the night,

Dreaming it was someone she hadn’t quite met yet.

At least not that she knew of.

And would she know when she did meet him?

Would he know when he met her?

But those were questions for another morning. Not today.

Today’s thoughts were reserved for herself.

Who was she?

She thought she had known, but lately she seemed to forget.

Just like she forgets to make the bed every morning, despite her best intentions.

She keeps waiting for someone to tell her who she is. To define her.

To give her purpose. A plan. Anything.

But maybe that’s the problem.

Maybe they’re just as lost as she is.

So where’s the answer? The all-illusive piece?

But wait, what’s that?

A faint beating.

A heart.

Her heart.

She has a feeling therein lies the key.

The search is over, but the quest is far from done.

For once one question is answered, there’s always another one.