Wrestling with Myself

Staring at the boxes

It shouldn't take this long

To recognize the space where I belong.

Why can't I accept the one in which I fit?

And leave behind the one which has become a miss, rather than a hit.

It was part of how I saw myself my whole life until now

But that doesn't mean it's where I should stick around.

As I finally allow the mouse to click the proper square,

I feel anxious about it, though I know I should not despair.

The anonymity doesn't make the grappling in my soul any easier,

Though knowing others were aware certainly would make me queasier.

Each time I fill out a survey these days

I realize this struggle is surely here to stay.

I move down the row of options gradually,

Seeing which one of the letters of the alphabet soup grabs me.

I started with S when the journey began,

then landed on Q when I still didn't quite understand.

This is where I remained until I took the next step,

When B is where I felt at home, but it was only prep.

For nothing remains, just like a song,

I haven't stayed anywhere very long,

Perhaps that's how it always will be,

But for now, while dreaming of L, I have landed on P.

And I think that's a pretty cool place to be.

I'm proud to say it's the right place for me.