Who Am I?

Who am I?

I do not know.

How odd it feels,

To not know oneself,

When you are eternally stuck with you,


Who am I?

I still don't know.

People keep asking,

"Who are you?"

"Who is the real you?"

"Who do you think you are?"

Bombardments of words flow through my head,

Trying to describe me,

But my brain makes them to unfocused to read,

And give an answer,

As if it doesn't want me to know myself just yet.

Who am I?

Yet again, I have no answer.

Still searching,

Feeling awkward,

Because everyone else has an answer,

Except me.

I read,

And I write,

Like a maniac,

Trying to understand me,

Trying to get a grip on my own reality.

I search deep inside myself,

Looking like a fool,

Feeling like one too,

Looking like a scavenger searching for berries,

Feeling like I have only until winter before all of the harvest is gone.

I sit and wonder all day long,

About who I am or could possibly be…

I dig my feet into cold and cooling sand,

The fine grains sparkle in the sun,

I smell the salty waves as they spray me with mist,

And whisper words within my ear.

I am on the beach,

You may have inferred,

And once again I ask myself,

That never-dying, never-ending, never-leaving,


Who am I?

Now as I listen to the waves,

And their all-knowing words,

They make me feel,


More complete,

Like I've known the answer to my question all along.

So, who am I?

Well the answer is simple,

I am,