From Puddle to Jenga

As a child

Aware of the infinition of possibilities around me

The multiverse

Like so many butterflies

Which ones do I go for?

Which ones do I catch?

How high can I jump?

Olympics or drug addiction

Polyglottism or earth roots

Banker’s wife or fire dancer

Golf or crystals

Who am I?

What am I?

So much to choose

Such shapelessness

I am a puddle reaching for a shape

The puddle reads, studies

The puddle get powerfully attracted

To Some Things

Doesn’t stop herself

Breaks rules and boundaries,

But slowly, oh so slowly

Starts getting an image of herself

How does a puddle even see herself

Isn’t she just a reflection of the sky?

The puddle solidifies

Searches for mirrors

Finds other mirrors looking for mirrors

Scratch that

Fluff like sugar candy

The puddle needs a shape

Wants to be named

Wants to be seen

But people just look at themselves

In a puddle.

The puddle starts to commit

Because shapelessness is too exhausting

And here come the acronyms

Here come the words

TCK, HSP, PTSD, BPD, ENFP-T, 9w8

Feminist, artist, wanderer, gypsy

I am French but don’t look it

Somewhat Native Argentinian, Romanian

No one can see it

I sound American but am not

I thought I was Jewish but was Catholic

Until I asked for excommunication

Half-Buddhist half-Celtic witch

I am fire, I am water

Child Sexual Abuse Survivor

Do we have an acronym?

CSAS

Politically bisexual

Fag hag, fruit fly, rainbow loop

Child-free, abortive

Léo with Aquarius Rising and Scorpio Moon

Chinese Snake

Western Queen

Warrior-Lover

Kinesthetic

I see words and numbers as colors

That’s a condition too.

Too many neuron mirrors

I can always find pain like a radar

I speak too fast

I read too fast

Then I become a blown fuse

Who am I?

I have many words

And I have many names

Many countries, 

Many friends

Many languages

Many passions

And I still don’t know who I am

I threw words in my puddle

It was useful

But I still don’t know

I think the game is called 

Jenga.