To do it clearly,
it'd take a book.
I'm not up for that kind of work,
so I'll attempt to cut it short.

You are but a part of a convoluted mix up.
A constant element in a periodic table of personal madness.
An important ingredient in the recipe of death and rebirth.
The other side of a mirror I'd gaze into in order to gauge my self worth.

Too vague.
I'm getting nowhere with this.
Let me try to put it into simpler words:

Identity crisis.
Bad acid trip.
Social experiment gone horribly wrong.
An attempt to live my life in accordance to the lyrics of a song.
180 degree turnabout of my own strengths and flaws.
Less weight for what I felt and more placed in what I saw.

You are just a part of my deepest plunge into what I thought it was to be insane.

This is far from enough,
and it's surely a mess,
but it's so hard to explain.