What does it mean when I cannot find myself?

Not my eyeglasses. Not my way home.

When I cannot find myself,
I lose the sense of home—
my home, the place where I truly belong.

It is confusing, yet undeniable,
like being alive
but not fully present—
me.

At times I feel physically strong,
yet I wander lost in a labyrinth, circling endlessly,
as though I am walking toward myself
but never reaching.

My life is a memory box tipped over.
I see faces, pressed dry plants
I don’t know what they are.
Papers with hearts and writings.
I don’t know.

Sometimes I live only inside my mind,
and I don’t know why
or how to return to you.

In my place comes someone else—
confused, inarticulate,
a stranger still trying,
yet never quite
reaching me.