To be me or not to be me, all I know is that I gotta be me.
The noble state of thinking of being
brings me no closer to an answer that probably does not exist.
Is it a good thing to sit around and let people tell me who I am?
Or allow the society I strive to enter
continue to shift my thoughts on the definition of my existence?
Should I sleep infinitely and never arise to wonder at these difficulties that lay at my feet?
Rather I take charge,
running forward into the masses exuberantly shouting,
for an infinite sleep will only lead me to a dream relying upon a partial notion of my existence.