So many possible selves you haven't committed to one.
You could become almost anything, and that's both the gift and the stall. You keep your options adjacent, your identity a little soft, because choosing one shape means grieving all the others. The Eye sees the loop: you call it open-mindedness, but some of it is the fear that picking wrong is worse than not picking. You're not lost. You're a room full of doors, hand hovering over the handles.
Get your read — free on iPhoneWhich door you keep almost opening.