I only know how to be me.

But I feel broken, lacking…not exactly right. I am not sure how to express it…

Weird in my own skin. Really uncomfortable. Like I have to squint to see right.

Reaching for something, but I don’t know what.

Always questioning. Always processing. On a day like today, always hurting.

I don’t know how to explain the riot in my heart. The rage. The sadness. The feelings of failure that I want to wrap up over me somewhere in a dark corner where I can be forgotten and just sleep it all away.

I only know how to be me.

It’s an awkward sense of confidence. Running out of the right words to say. Feeling time stretch as I blunder and trip to the next thing. Always the next thing.

The next hurdle. The next handshake. The next heartbreak.

The stories of stories within stories that I see and want to share, want to keep close. Shiny baubles of truth and rose-colored glass that make me feel legit, present, counted.

I only know how to be me.

So I smile and wave, and hope I’ve practiced the right things to say.

I ask for help and guidance, evaluate the strategies of the past, pick the brains, see the sights, sing the songs…

And hope that it matters, that I’ll matter – that instead of pieces, I’ll end up whole.

I only know how to be me.

But in the pieces, I can operate. I function. A place to thrive, a place to hide. Bite-sized. Manageable. But, now there are so many…

When there are so many pieces, I don’t know where to begin, or how they fit. I accept my fragmented state, but when there’s too many pieces…

Who am I when there are too many pieces, leftover pieces…

I only know how to be me.

So, I look to You.

I realize you know how the pieces fit. I hope for courage and understanding when the time is right to understand whether the piece fits or not.