I am

scholar

liar

cheat

 

I am

good

bad

unique

 

I am

lots of things

But most of all

I am me

 

Because there's no one else for me to be

Besides this brain in a sack of skin

that thinks about the world it lives in.

Combinations of qualities

that make something unique

out of all these mundane pieces.

 

Coutless

Countless things that make a human being

so many that apply to me

Is that my definition?

Is “me” just a puzzle

made of personality pieces?

Are we all just puzzles

waiting to be solved?

Or do we find pleasure in the

scattered jigsaw

 

Who needs to know the finished picture?

When the pieces look so much better on their own

 

I am

contradictions

 

I am

a creature of logic, of cynicism, of calculation

But those calculations

spawn from imagination

 

I am

bright, hopeful, forever optimistic,

even in the grimmest of situations.

 

I am smart, when I wish to be

Dumb when in others company.

 

I am pretty when I try,

But my face turns ugly

when I laugh or smile or cry.

 

I am confident

I am unsure

I seek out the company of others

Yet I am a hopeless introvert

 

I laugh too much in conversation

Cry too much when I’m alone

 

I am a kite pulled from the hands of certainty

Into uncharted ariel territories

Trying to find my colored flag

From who my heart likes

and what my body wants

 

I am

Silent like space

Loud like red

Energetic like a terrified grasshopper

Lethargic as a sleeping Sunday toad

 

Do these words paint a picture from life?

Or do they take some liberties?

Is the portrait a portrait?

Or just a painting with some minor similarities

 

Do contradictions make a person?

Do adjectives define a soul?

Questions, questions, so many questions

The answers to which I will never know

 

I am me

And that is all I can be sure of