Dear Indecisive Me

I always dreamt myself in a foreign land.

Now, I play tug o' war with home.

I've been sleeping under bridges,

and the backs of trucks

just to spin right back around to

"What do I want?"

That question clatters

like forks and knives

like broken shopping carts

through every action of everyday.

I'm driving myself crazy with a heart full of questions,

a stomach full of possibility,

but my gut full of reality.

"Who am I?"

the mirror beseeches me. 

I look at my teeth to avoid my stare.

I never meant to hurt anyone,

myself included,

but life has never let me run away.

It has found me flying down hills on bicycle tires at night,

found me when i've laughed too loudly,

when new confidence creeps into my hands and voice.

It trips me

to remind me

what the sidewalk tastes like. 

My soul has the relief impression of my every desire.

Right now, it sings Japan,

but what will it's whisper sound like next week.

Finding yourself is only a peaceful description

of the war that wages when you choose one part of your identity.

When will I be strong enough to know what's best?

Why can't I make hard decisions?

Why be scared of loss when it is the only thing life hands out to everyone?

At every age,

I have whispered

into the darkness

"love or freedom?"