The Makings of Me

"Who are you?" They ask.

"I am me." The words slip out, smooth, fast, unstoppable.

"No, who are you?" Persistent, irritating, nails on a chalkboard.

Words race through my mind, but unlike my earlier ones they are kept within.

Turmoil, desperation, despair.

Happiness, joy, adventure.

Ups and downs, ins and outs.


"I am me. There is no more to explain."

Names, dates, shapes, sizes.

Bones, muscles, hair, makeup, clothing.

These don't make up a person.

Memories, experiences, attitude, life.

Things that cannot be placed in a box and labelled.

These create a person.

So when asked "Who are you?"

Simpy, "I am me."


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