Misplaced

"I don't know what to do with you".  She says.  How profound of you.  How profound of you to be able to speak my plight so succinctly, so matter-of-factly.  But it is okay that you do not know what to do with me.  I am misplaced.  I am a wonderer.  I am the beautiful puzzle piece that is cut exactly the wrong way to fit into the puzzle.  So I am laid to the side.  Not discarded as much as forgotten.

I do not remember where it was that i felt at home.  Why can't I remember that?  It is something so basic, so fundamental.  Where was I?  Who was there?  Why did I ever leave?  Perhaps I made it up.  Perhaps there was no time or place where I was home.  Maybe only a feeling I get like it is inevitable and absolute and etched in our souls so deeply that we cannot escape it till we find it.  Another life, another time maybe

I will not be folded up pretty and placed in your box.  I will break free from your shackles.  I will set myself free.  I am captive to no one and nothing.  Why must you figure out what to do with me?  Why do I need to fit?  Can't I just be beautiful and true?  I cannot be managed or manipulated for long.  I am a rebel.  I am William Wallace.  I am V.  I am Tyler Durden and I am Jesus.  Do not take this away from me.  Do not cast me aside because you cannot figure me out.  I will be here.  I will not run from you.  Do not forget me, or you will awake and look for me and I will be gone.  You will not find me.  I will be misplaced from you always.