really

sometimes i would look at myself in the mirror and wonder if it was really me. this face, this body; this posture and the way this skin contained everything that was to be considered truly mine. the division between my mind and physical being had always been something that bothered me -- i would have very much liked to be able to tell the exact point where one ended and the other one started, but yet had failed to do so.


but i knew the division to exist, was certain of it. how could i have otherwise explained these moments of such profound self-acknowledgment? that dizzying moment of clarity followed by the almost sickening feeling of realization that this was me, this body was what i had been put into, and that it would be the extent of my knowledge in this world. and it always drove me to question why i was the way i was and did the things i did, and whether none of these made any sense at all; and sometimes i would feel that i was on the verge of an abyss, of seeing or understanding something that could very well change everything.


and yet i could have just as well been the person sitting next to me in that overcrowded commuter train; and in fact i was, or would be, or had been; and i had to turn my eyes away from my reflection.