I was once in some woods (literally). I didn't know who I was. I felt like I'd been wandering down the wrong path (metaphorically). I didn't know who I was.

I wandered to my heart's desire (literally). Though he was chopping wood, he wasn't being what I wanted him to be. I wandered away (metaphorically). I wandered away (literally). I didn't know who I was.

I wasn't being what he wanted me to be. And he wandered away (metaphorically). And I wandered away (literally). Because he wasn't being what I wanted him to be.

He wasn't being what I wanted him to be, because he wasn't being me. 

And.

He wasn't being what I wanted him to be, because he wasn't being what I wanted me to be. I didn't know who I was, so I imagined who I should like to be. So I thought, I better leave, so I can be me. Rather, I better leave, so I can find that thing, that I should be. (Because it isn't in he).

I wasn't being what he wanted me to be. I didn't believe he'd love me if I was anybody. Or rather, if I was not anybody. If I wasn't being what he wanted me to be, he'd stop loving me. So if I wasn't going to know who I was, I would have to wander away.

But I loved him. So I tried to be, what he wanted me to be, and be me, and be who I thought I should be, unsuccessfully, anyway. But he wandered away, anyway.

Because he didn't know who he was.