it seemed I was a sculpture that everyone was trying to make better
but the more they chipped away at me
they decided that I could not be fixed
and I was destined to stumble through life
just short of who I was suppose to be
imperfect to say the least
constantly hearing “pay no attention to that man behind the curtain”
but I wanted the answers
why am I imperfect? not good enough?
who am I anyway?
I’m a puzzle who has lost my box
no idea of the end picture
not sure which pieces fit and which ones don’t even belong to me
lost in a dark abyss
until the day I realized how tired
tired I was of being told I am not who I am suppose to be
how could I be anybody else?
who decided who I was suppose to be?
and wasn’t that up to me?
for the first time my greatest blessing was losing that box
I am lost
but who isn’t?
the puzzle of who I am to become is not predetermined
I get to choose
what a novel concept
and how did it take me so long to realize this?
or am I figuring this out early in life?
and does it even matter?
be comfortable with the questions because nobody has the answers
the most beautiful yet scary part of life is that we have the power
maybe that’s what I have been afraid of
I didn’t trust myself with that power
time has shown that the mistakes and blunders
the insecurities are part of all of us
the dark abyss is now a tunnel with a small light at the end
some day I will figure out which pieces of the puzzle fit
maybe not today, tomorrow, or even five years from now
and maybe the puzzle will not be perfect
suddenly it seems acceptable that I am not perfect
what a relief
I am not necessarily ready to let go of all the pieces yet
I have not decided what fits, what doesn’t
time will tell though
and maybe a piece that fits today
won’t fit in two years
but I have the power to decide
when to drop them and when to hold on
what fits, what doesn’t
what the end picture will be
and that is something
he can never take from me