What if I’m a broken snowman

There are so many windows to my personality, so many dimensions to my being that I sometimes wonder; just who am I really?

Who designed this person that I carry around, the body attached to the mind and brain that has a thousands thoughts; and just whose thoughts are they?

Some may questions why this is important to me; to feel defined and whole. Maybe it shouldn’t be, except there is this nagging sensation that somewhere along the way I became so very lost inside and the projection of me that exists in the world is just….. not me.

I worry that I am the broken parts of me, fitted so badly together and created by the very people who want less for my life then I would want for myself. What if I am the so many parts of other people’s perceptions. What if those perceptions are not right, or even nice? What if I am the worst kind of snow man, made of mud and bricks and broken bits, all sharp and cruel and the one that it hurts daily is me.

Because what if I am the jealous parts of people, or the broken bits of them that they insist in seeing in others? What if I am the mirror at the fun fair; so distorted and angled that it doesn’t in fact even look like me.

What if I am the broken snow man, made of horrible bits and standing melting as like a stack of cards, precariously put together I am ready to fall. Ready to break into the many bits, made up of many other people’s thoughts that suddenly feel as if they are choking me and stopping me from breathing.

Who then do I become and what makes me….me.


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