I pick up a book of poems. I read the
line “I am lost to the world” as “I have
become lost to the world,” which, I believe, is less
self-pitying, less melodramatic, and more resigned, more confused. I have
become lost to the world / In which I otherwise wasted
so much time. The poem is about the life of
an artist, which I am not. But I understand, primally
almost, the concept of losing, of loosing oneself from the
world, of disappearing into a different place, one of retreat
and safety, of the twinned yearnings of escape and discovery.
Paraphrases from the novel A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara.