Ray, 22, Lost

Two weeks ago, Gerald Fine
Thirty-eight
Devoted father
Loving husband
Toll booth worker on Long Island

Went missing

He's been missing for two weeks

In some ways
I am Gerald Fine

I'm gone
Lost
Two weeks
Missing
Wanted
Searched for
Missed

Well...

Yeah

I don't know Mr. Fine
But there's a silent coalition
Within the Missing

All missing persons
Are part of the greater Missing

Lost

And sometimes you wonder
Or maybe you ask
What's the difference
Between missing
And lost

Lost is when people stop missing you
So I guess if you wanted to know when I got lost
You'd have to ask the people who stopped missing me

I don't want to make them out to be mean or anything
I'm glad they finally got over it
It makes the guilt fade faster

Some people would say 'lost' is something I am
I think of it as something I do

Like an occupation

I have chosen 'lost'
I have dedicated my life to 'lost'
And yes, it's something you work at

But it's also a calling, I feel
Something you feel chosen for

I never liked connections
I never liked roots, ties
Nothing like that

My first memory is of reading 'Peter Pan'
And desperately wanting to be a Lost Boy

My mom used to read that book to me
And I think it scared her how much I enjoyed it

I couldn't really attach to anybody

I used to fantasize about people I knew dying
To see if I could illicit a reaction from myself
But...never any luck

Oh sure, I'd feel sad, but...

Devastated?

No...

I wonder sometimes
I wonder what devastation feels like...

Extreme emotion
Heartache
Sobbing

I wonder

Two weeks ago I was going through a toll booth
And who did I meet
But Gerald Fine

Lost, just like me

Thought if he got married
Thought if he had kids
Thought if he really, really tried
He could connect
He could attach
He could...

But no dice

He took one look at me
And there he was

--Lost

He took my change
He looked at me

Maybe he saw my flyer somewhere

Ray, 22, Lost

And that was it

That was the day he went missing

But one day he won't be
One day Gerald Fine, Thirty-Eight
Will just be another lost person
Out there in the world

Something else my mom used to tell me?

We've all been breathing the same air
Since the world was created

It's all just recycled air
Nothing ever really goes away

I hope she remembers telling me that
I hope she remembers that everything that's ever been here
Is still here, and always will be here

I hope that gives her comfort