My long lost lover isn't my freshmen crush. He certainly isn't my ex. He isn't even Adam Levine. He’s not the guy I long for to text me. Nor is he the guy I stare at during third block.
No my long lost lover isn't even a person. In fact, one could say it doesn't exist. It doesn't exist because I am in full control of finding this long lost lover.
My long lost lover is what keeps me up at night. It greets me at the door, so close I can sense it but never hold on to it. It is who I write to. Who I read to. Who I feed. When I’m sitting in my room drowning out the sounds of people with ear buds blasting music into my ears this is who I drown out the most. As I pour milk into a mug I am covering it. When I sip up the warmth I leave behind a small pool of hot cocoa hoping the lover stays behind. But sometimes I drink up every last drop hoping to find this lost thing.
I run from it. I search for it. I hide from it. I long for it. I can’t make up my mind. Do I daringly listen to my thoughts or do I turn up the volume on the stereo?
  Perhaps someday I will be lucky enough to quench this undying thirst of wanderlust. Perhaps then I will be lucky enough to find my long lost lover. There’s only one problem.
My long lost lover just so happens to be my soul.