Sometimes I forget who I am.
This isn’t the child taking pleasure in looking at skyscrapers from the sidewalk,
or the girl awed by natural sand castles and sings with the breeze of rain.
This isn’t the teenager who sees sunsets like oranges on a spoon of water,
or the lady taking a pose, strutting on an invisible catwalk.
Of cartoons and TV shows one cannot grow out of,
Of long walks on the beach and raindrops tapping on windows,
Of the blinding sun full of possibilities and water that makes it sizzle
Of directions and that tug to an unknown.
Sometimes I really wish that I can forget who I am.