I’ve been trying to find myself lately,
I’ve been trying with no success.
I’ve been trying to find out lately,
Where am I?
Somewhere in a foreign country that is not Home.
Or somewhere back in the house where I grew up,
somewhere near my parent’s room,
Or maybe somewhere in that aeroplane, flying across the Atlantic.
Am I waiting at the airport? In a cold metallic bathroom with automatic faucets?
Somewhere riding on that train across Germany,
Maybe on the passenger’s seat of that rented car travelling across California.
Was I in that familiar way from the office to my home?
Was I waiting on that traffic jam?
Or was I standing on the edge of Fort Saint-Jean,
staring at the horizon,
mesmerized by the infinitude of Marseille’s sea?
How am I?
Am I somehow between the laughing out loud,
sobbing uncontrollably and shedding big chunks of tears?
Somehow talking incredibly fast,
silly dancing regardless of the location,
walking fast in between buildings.
Somehow rushing to my next appointment,
trying to control my huge hair with a tiny hairband,
somehow clicking glasses full of beer,
full of wine, bumming someone’s cigarette.
Somehow using my hands to express loudly, strongly,
these opinions about the Universe, about humanity, about myself.
When the fuck am I?
Sometime when I wake up to the chirping birds of the alarm clock on my phone,
opening my eyes to the annoying sunlight in my window.
Sometime between my almost null breakfast,
between getting on my bike, riding across this town,
trying to park in one of the busy racks at the University.
Am I when I’m sitting in the classroom,
having all these thoughts without being able to speak them out?
Packing all my stuff back in the backpack,
or rushing back home to lay on my couch?
Sometime when my eyes get so exhausted from reading,
taking notes, drawing diagrams.
Am I during that existential dread, just before I fall asleep?
Or am I when I wake up in the middle of the night, in silence,
regretting having that last cup of coffee in the afternoon?
Who am I?
Am I the student? am I the lover?
The daughter, the writer, the photographer, the drummer, the singer, the friend?
The cute funny friend,
the insecure friend,
the one who takes one too many drinks on that night out,
the girl rushing everywhere, meeting everyone.
One with a horrible sense of fashion,
can’t keep her shit together,
too many hobbies, too many topics to read about.
Am I this feeling in my heart?
Am I these thoughts inside my head?
Am I what I do? Am I what I yell?
Am I none of these things? Could I be nobody?
May I please be nobody?
Just for one minute, just so I can make sense of it all.
Just for a while, may I please be nobody?
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But there’s no time, no space, no way to be nobody.
I can’t make myself invisible,
I shine as bright as that annoying sun through everybody’s window.
Grabbing them by the shoulders, shouting at their faces,
“I AM!, for fuck’s sake, can’t you see that I painfully am?!“
Begging for someone to tell me where to find me,
how to find me, when to find me.
Hoping someone can tell me who I am.
But they never know, they never know.
And I keep feeling disappointed,
so I keep running away, keep isolating myself,
to grant me that one minute,
to grant me that little while,
just so I can keep asking myself,