Lost and Found | Teen Ink

Lost and Found MAG

August 5, 2008
By Anonymous

I liked being a mess. The desk that should have been clear so I could do my homework was always besieged with bowls of cereal and spoiled milk, old magazines, and Post-it notes I had forgotten to remember. My floor was a vacuum in itself, eating anything entering my room. It consumed sweaters, stuffed animals, socks, shoes. When I occasionally did laundry, I would dig up clothes I couldn't even recall purchasing. My shelves overflowed with containers of little odds and ends: hair bands, chapstick, matches, loose mints, coins, earring backings. I couldn't always see these things, but I knew that they were safe, nestled somewhere on a shelf. Like old friends in a phone book, I figured that someday I would find all the loose strings and tie them together.

One lonely day in August when all of my friends had yet to return from camp in Maine, visiting family in Florida, or some community-service trip in Mexico, something inside me began to itch. I tried taking a shower, scrubbing myself with every bodywash and bar of soap I could find. I brushed my hair and my teeth, but didn't feel any cleaner. I checked my e-mail, which was empty. I checked the DVR to see if any new shows had been recorded, but I had already seen everything.

I went downstairs and found my brother playing video games, my mom on the phone, and my dad in his office – everyone in their right place. I told my mom that something didn't feel right, and she suggested that for once I should clean my room. The thought itself made me nauseous. I went upstairs to sulk, feeling so overwhelmed that I might as well have been floundering without a boat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.

When I opened the door to my bedroom, everything was in its usual cluttered arrangement. A plate of half-eaten pancakes sat on my desk, soggy with syrup from the morning. My bikini hung lifelessly from my doorknob, dripping pool water. My heavy covers lay crumpled and cold across my bed, molded by the twists and turns of the previous night. Piles of dirty clothes sat unsorted, collecting dust.

I stood in the middle of the cluttered room, breathing in the filthy air that I had become so used to. In the silence of that moment, I began to hear the clock ticking. I became aware of the moldy smell. I noticed that a spider had spun a shimmering line from my lamp to the top of my mirror. I shivered in disgust. I remembered that winter how my stuffed animal, Vanilla, had fallen behind my dresser and I hadn't noticed until I caught the repulsive scent of her fur burning against the heater, until it was too late and she was permanently covered in brown spots.

I suddenly felt sympathy for everything in my room that I had buried, never to be seen again. Lost items I had blocked out for years made their way back into my consciousness: my favorite yellow tank top, the picture of my mom and me on that boat in Jamaica, my baseball card collection.

I had an urge to dive under my bed and uncover everything lurking in the murky depths of dust, and to climb up into the highest corners of my closet and rescue items that had been mingling with the spiders. The innocent piles were growing higher and higher until they were looming monsters before my eyes. They were threatening to swallow me whole. I had to get rid of them. And so I started to clean.

In a box buried under old textbooks, I found a letter that my Poppy had written me at camp. I hadn't thought of him since his funeral. I suddenly remembered the thrill of running naked through cold sprinklers with my cousins, the spicy smell of barbecue mixing with the salty air at his beach house, and the distinct feel of his soft sweater rubbing warmly against my cheek each time he enveloped me in a hug. I remembered my dad rocking me to sleep the night Poppy died, and how the tears wouldn't stop.

I sat with his picture, blocking out the rest of the mess around me. I was in the middle of a storm, but I sat there and studied him until I had memorized every line in his face. Tears began to roll down my cheeks again, and the relief was like the sound of heavy rain pounding on a roof at the end of a drought.

In the drawer next to my bed, I found a friendship bracelet my childhood best friend, Aubrey, had given to me before she moved to California. I traced the green and purple pattern with my thumb, realizing that I hadn't spoken to her in years. The next day I called her, and we talked all night, laughing about memories like dressing up as the Spice Girls for Halloween. She reminded me of the time we built a family of snowmen in my backyard and had a funeral for them when they'd melted. I had lost so many precious childhood memories over time, letting them slip away into the tide like grains of sand. It was the kind of conversation you never want to end because for each moment we talked, it felt like a bucket collecting droplets of water from a leak.

Under my bed I even found that picture of my mom and me in Jamaica. I had forgotten how turquoise the water had looked from our ship, but what really caught my attention, though, was my image. I had buck teeth, short hair, and pimples covering my face. I stared at that girl, barely able to recognize this person who had drowned in the mess of my room so many years before. I decided to completely re­organize and revamp my room so that all the books, belts, and baskets were in their right place. It was like finding the missing pieces of the puzzle.

The finishing touch was framing that photo and hanging it high up on my wall. After all, it was me I had been searching for.

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This article has 431 comments.

MikeOxard said...
on Jan. 19 at 3:54 pm
MikeOxard, U, Alabama
0 articles 0 photos 2 comments
This is actually incredibly relatable. Good job!

mackenzie-22 said...
on Dec. 21 2022 at 12:58 pm
mackenzie-22, Cambirge, Ontario
0 articles 0 photos 2 comments
I live it and it's so relatable

on Sep. 2 2022 at 4:19 pm
The-Night BRONZE, Perris, California
4 articles 0 photos 3 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times if one only remembers to turn on the light."
-Albus Dumbledore

I absolutely love this. It's so real. I try to keep my room clean but to be honest like @WolfGurl said it's hard for me to keep it clean during the school year and my things get buried. It's always a great feeling when I find some of my things again and reorganize. And please ignore the people who claim this is "inappropriate" I don't even understand how that is possible. Your work is beautiful and engaging. Keep writing.

on Jun. 2 2022 at 4:10 pm
WolfGurl PLATINUM, Not A Real Place, Indiana
20 articles 5 photos 177 comments

Favorite Quote:
Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened. –Anatole France.

A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than you love yourself. –Josh Billings

Men are from Earth, women are from Earth. Deal with it.- George Carlin

A nation that destroys its soils destroys itself. Forests are the lungs of our land, purifying the air and giving fresh strength to our people. —Franklin D. Roosevelt

Never lose. Either win, or learn. - Me

I agree with @Emma_Owens. Very interesting piece. Not what you would expect but very well written. My room is usually clean during the summer but when I'm in school things just get really stressful and I don't have the time or motivation to clean. Keep writing and don't listen to those people.

on Feb. 28 2022 at 9:43 pm
Emma_Owens GOLD, Rowan, Nebraska
10 articles 1 photo 24 comments

Favorite Quote:
“Love is not affectionate feeling, but a steady wish for the loved person’s ultimate good as far as it can be obtained.”
-C.S. Lewis

All these people on here that are being mean need to stop. You can't criticize others' writing without not having written yourself. This is a platform so that teens may enjoy and share their work with one another. This is not a platform in which you bully others for their writing just because you can't write yourself.

I loved your story and I thought it was wonderful.

on Jan. 21 2022 at 11:27 am
AthenatheGoddess PLATINUM, Myrtle Beach, South Carolina
32 articles 0 photos 20 comments

Favorite Quote:
Look, I didn't want to be a halfblood."

This is a greatly written memoir. I'm sorry about the haters that are on here, they are immature. Your writing is beautiful! Keep going!

on Jan. 12 2022 at 3:40 pm
WigglePoo4597, Tokyo, Other
0 articles 0 photos 2 comments
I am messy two

on Jan. 12 2022 at 3:39 pm
WigglePoo4597, Tokyo, Other
0 articles 0 photos 2 comments
ya same heir

krusekid said...
on Jan. 12 2022 at 3:34 pm
krusekid, Salem, Oregon
0 articles 0 photos 1 comment
this is way too innaproiat for mi. i hop yu die in a fawgign fiyr

on Sep. 9 2021 at 5:03 pm
sirJAHhimself, Houston, Texas
0 articles 0 photos 1 comment
bruhhh she tweekinnnnnnn

on Apr. 10 2021 at 10:40 pm
Ekatbeggs BRONZE, Cullman, Alabama
1 article 0 photos 1 comment

Favorite Quote:
"Courage is not the absence of fear but the triumph over it. " Nelson Mandela

I absolutely loved your article! You portrayed the moral very well. I hope you keep writing!

SnowQueenIce said...
on Dec. 24 2020 at 1:35 pm
SnowQueenIce, Seattle, Washington
0 articles 0 photos 20 comments
Nice story and description. I love it!

OzzieNoBlade said...
on Nov. 5 2020 at 3:37 pm
OzzieNoBlade, Just A Kid, Other
0 articles 0 photos 5 comments

Favorite Quote:
Life isn't a fantasy, but your mind is.

good story but please sorry about @Joe42934 and @MyNameIsGreg there are just being mean please ignore them and keep writing and you maybe should put warnings to people about it being inappropriate thank you for reading!

Joe42934 said...
on Sep. 30 2020 at 10:49 am
Joe42934, Nacogdoches, Texas
0 articles 0 photos 1 comment
I think it is the perfect story because it's the old way to write a story. It's like the family screw up stops drinking acochal, rebounds, and makes 7 figures.

wasdwasd said...
on Jan. 21 2020 at 2:46 pm
wasdwasd, Asd, Illinois
0 articles 0 photos 2 comments
i agree with Greg, this is very innapropriate. you will heer from my lawyer

wasdwasd said...
on Jan. 21 2020 at 2:44 pm
wasdwasd, Asd, Illinois
0 articles 0 photos 2 comments
bad retar

MyNameIsGreg said...
on Sep. 30 2019 at 10:31 am
MyNameIsGreg, North Port, Florida
0 articles 0 photos 2 comments
i hate this article, this is innaporiate and i'm reporting you to the police, this is not funny in any matter. this is very bad. you will here from my lawyer.

MyNameIsGreg said...
on Sep. 30 2019 at 10:29 am
MyNameIsGreg, North Port, Florida
0 articles 0 photos 2 comments
@tiktokgodddddddddddddddd u are ugly NOOB

on Jun. 25 2019 at 1:11 pm
Roxanna_Foxe SILVER, Anonymous, North Carolina
8 articles 0 photos 25 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Kindness is the language which the deaf can hear and the blind can see." - Mark Twain

Occasionally, I clean out my drawers and closet, where I'll find lost things I forgot about. This story resonates well with a lot of people. You're writing style is gorgeous. Keep it up!

ADriscoll3 said...
on Jun. 11 2019 at 4:42 pm
ADriscoll3, Madison, New Jersey
0 articles 0 photos 2 comments
I think that you inspired lots of young readers and writers to write about their accomutplemts. Also, I think you helped people know because a lot of people lose their true personality in middle and high school, and with this peace, you showed them that something so small can be lifechanging.