I've been having sleepless nights, I've been feeling anxious and vulnerable, drained ever since the question of what or who really defines a “me” popped in my head. I have been trying to change to what I used to be, because what I used to be was strong, and confident, I miss the person I used to be. Before I got my heart broken, before I lost someone, before I lost myself and then here I am trying to change myself and I am failing, I am not failing because i have a strong personality. No. I am failing because I don't know who I am and not knowing who I am makes me spend nights awake questioning the circumstances and trying to archive an answer. I am in complex ride of knots and I am on the front seat witnessing every drop and dent. But what if I don't want to know the answer? what if the answer is too scary for me to handle and in the end I am just a copy of someone else? or a cheap version of a expensive piece of art? But who am i? who am I in a universe of me's? who am I in a place where being equal is something valuable and who am I if I don't know who I am? I am a original piece of art, valuable and unique? Or am I a bunch of circumstances, moments, and time put together. Am I just a time with an expiration date? Born an empty vase, filled later on with circumstances that make me, me? And if so, does that mean that my existence could be the same with someone else's if the circumstances were made the same? Could a me exist twice in one lifespan but only with a few changes?

I find that it's easier to define a “me” with the me that I am not. So I am everything I am not instead of I am everything I am.