The Lost

All the bloody downs and elated ups,
They're not worth the time I spend mulling over the quintessentials of my existence.
Because no matter how I think of the way you make me,
No matter which way I turn,
Which perspective I try,
Which function of Sine I try and divide it all by,
I am lost.
I am lost in this deep, dark forest of every possible worst case scenario.
Remember that game you brought home?
I won.
You blamed it on the internet.
But I'm no cheat.
Not anymore, at least.
I still think there is one card missing.
I counted them all,
One-hundred and eighty-nine
I like to think that card said something about space; Don't tell me I'm ridiculous
I want to think that it said:
"If one were to get lost in his or her thoughts and become entrapped inside the tangles of their mind, what would be the best way to get them back?
"A.) Weave your words like a siren into the smallest crevices of their heart. Once you've got that finished, rip your words from them.
"B.) Do not try to get them back. They have left you for good. You will fail.
"C.) Play yourself into the inner workings of their mind. Make yourself seem as if you are the world. Leave once they have surfaced.
"D.) Court them out, taunt them with whispers of ghosts and promises of wishes. Love them until they love you. Continue to love them until they ask you not to."