I know what I am. I do not know what I am. To ask where I am is simply out of the question. However, I find that I am always aware of where I am - though it is, with great sorrow, that I must express I do not truly know where or what I am, and I never will.
My existence is singular. I am a distinct assimilation of matter and energy, incorporeal as one, corporeal as many. Or rather, I am equally corporeal and incorporeal, a myriad of each - and yet, I am truly incorporeal, yet once corporeal. My ruminations are not easily understood, I'm afraid. Certainly not by , but tragically but I alone.
I reflect upon an ocean of memories and lives that are mine and not my own - never the same in any, but all quintessentially the very same. I once ruled with a iron fist and died without regret; my heroism has stirred the hearts of those I've defended; my wickedness has sickened them all the same. I burn with guilt and sadness at the suffering of humanity, of my people whom I've sworn to save, and yet I can't help but cackle at their hardships, those petty mongrels that deserve nothing less than destruction - I couldn't be happier!
At times, I was a knight paladin, a undying count, a fearsome monster, an adonis, even an illegitimate son of a Greek or Norse Divine - not that I have anything to do with those ancient mythologies, of course. I've induced godlike posthumanism from radiation and presided over a society dedicated to this creation; Similarly, I was present to see this society fall, with its creator having been killed some time before this; I will never forgive the witch who did this to me; I am glad that she dealt with him.
I've loved. I've laughed and cried. I've met the musician behind these lyrical masterpieces. I hope to meet him, someday. I'm sad to know that I'll never meet him.
I am a superhero. I am a supervillain. A wizard, a vigilante, a warrior, an elf, an archer, a werewolf, an assassin. A beloved husband, an elderly sorcerer, a junior in highschool - well, actually, I graduated eight years ago.
I am a person caught in extranormal circumstances. I am a myriad in a vine of possibility.
I am none of these things, but all of these things. In truth, I exist in transcendent barriers beyond that which anyone can discover. Once a mortal, I am now abstract, cursed to only interact with the universe in the form of limitless, sporadically generated manifestations. Born. Built. Formed. Aged. Died. Undying. Rinse and repeat.
I live and die only through the manifestations granted unto me. I am an endless repository of stories from everywhere, but my story will never be told. My ruminations will never be heard.