Identity Crisis

Sam - at first glance, a name upon billions and billions of names. A name with letters and a pronunciation; nothing special. Except this is a case where the person behind the name matters much more than the name itself. Bristly, through the trees, leaves fly among an expressway of freedom and adventure. Thoroughly leaving their mark through the air and landing somewhere upon the blue marble we call Earth. When I am around Sam, I feel like I am a planet orbiting a star. She radiates energy far beyond her own body and far beyond anyone around her. In fact, she is the brightest star that I know. So luminous it sometimes is hard to think about anything when you’re looking at her. All there is to think about is the beauty she is offering to your eyes. But there is much more to Sam than that. We are all wanderers. We are. But some of us, like some leaves, do not find the ground as soon as we should. Sam is one of those people. Her inner-strength is sometimes at battle with the brain; a fight for the ages. She isn’t one to properly apply herself to meeting new people, which is a smart thing to do, but she doesn’t fully realize how shy she really is. You see, Sam is like a closet. When the door is open, you can fit anything in it to a certain extent. But once it gets in there, the door shuts. At this point, what’s in there has nowhere to move and what is waiting to come in has no ability to come in. Sam allows people to access her, but only to a certain extent. And sometimes she doesn’t let anyone access her at all. It is a struggle to identify who is a trustworthy person and who is not, and respectfully, she worries too much about opening the closet door. Sometimes you have to open the door, and it’s okay to let people access you or let them see the inside, and you have to judge when to shut the door. Sam will get there, and she will learn how great it will be to share the mind she has, because she is the only person on the planet that thinks the way she does. We are all wanderers. Sam is confused, like a dog that escaped the backyard. However, like the dog, she is curious about the outside world. She has and is still is trapped in the same neighborhood, however. She years to see the place beyond the pines. It could be dangerous, but she doesn’t care. She strives for the sights to sink into her field of vision, and who wouldn’t want that? Sam is a lonely wanderer, often feeling the very thing she shouldn’t be feeling. Because some people are absolutely not lonely at all. Sam isn’t truly lonely, but she hasn’t had the best of luck either. Pacing with the times does not always enable you to have a good ending, nor a good beginning. Sometimes, you must run past the times because sometimes you are ahead of the times in every way, shape and form. Secretly hiding what the world doesn’t know, your secrets; your loves; your favorites; your ambitions; your regrets; your wishes. Nothing so far out of reach that you can’t reach them, but so far out of reach that you can never get a good grip and grab them. She has not watched herself from afar. She has not watched herself from close up. She has not watched herself from below or above. She has only watched herself through her own eyes, offering enough visionary substance to keep her rolling, but also confusion about who she is and why she is who she is; an undocked boat, set free. Free to roam the oceans, free to go wherever she wants. An undocked boat who must wait for the quiet night to become an extravaganza; she must wait for the waves to start moving, and when they start moving, she will start moving too. Far, far away to a place she has always secretly dreamed about. She’s a candle waiting for the right fire. She’s a wild horse waiting for an open field; She’s an undocked boat waiting for the waves to start moving. She’s Sam, waiting for her life to truly begin.