Who am I

Just back in the sanity. I meant city. Genuine Freudian slip: I never ever thought I'd seek my sanity here, especially after hurtling from here like a bat screeching outta hell, precisely - back then - for my sanity's sake.
Sitting at a Seattle with my mug already cold, the mocha foam dry and stiff like frozen algae, I watch my many faces in the crowd go by.
Half-way through my life, with a tortoise-heavy-shell of choices attached to my back, I have one predominant question that I need to answer before launching into my second-half: who am I?
Only once I've answered that question can I ask, where to from here?
Prayer: please mould me into me, so that I can - authentically - be me.