I am

Another old notebook,
renewed by fresh purpose,
lists of tasks unfinished,
torn out and discarded,
"This will be the last one I promise".
The hollow words scrape 
as they tumble out of my mouth.
A little laugh of condemnation,
sparks a moment of reflection.
"We are what we we do" they say.
If this is true, then what am I?
I am a victim
of projects unfinished,
of historic behaviour,
of deadlines missed.
I am a leaf in the wind,
tossed by my emotions,
made limp through resignation.
I am a series of choices
to lie to friends,
in fear of hard truths,
to not look inward,
but instead craft outward.
I am the choice 
not to live, but to hide.

If I am what I do,
then I am only a victim
because I choose to be one.
If I am what I do,
then I am these words,
this pen, these clothes,
these bitten down fingernails,
this third cup of coffee.
I am the decision to act
to get straight out of bed,
to wash my clothes,
to answer honestly when asked
"how are you?"

I am these clumsy words,
I am choice,
I am purpose,
I am action,
I am an old notebook
finally being filled.