I took a breather.

If I wasn’t me, I would have no reason to try and exist. Sure, they would’ve probably killed me. But if they weren’t going to kill me, I would probably kill me on accident. If I lost who and what I was, there’d be no reason to continue to be me. Why eat? It’s not me anymore. Why breath? Only I would need that, I believe. If I’m not me, it's not necessary. If I lose me, there is no reason for me to exist, as I wouldn’t, in reality, exist already. I would be mere substance, formless material, slithering aimlessly. What I was would be looted, like an abandoned temple. What I was would be disintegrated, like a long-vacant junkyard. Alternatively, it’d be as if I were a tangled mass of flesh, ready to come apart once something with an actual essence came into contact with me.

You know, maybe all of the smells, the feelings, the tastes being separate from me would suggest who I am, who I truly am, isn’t tangible at all. Although I am my body, what goes in it isn’t me, and may even affect me physically or emotionally. I guess it’d be hard to say what substances would return me to my natural resting state. Conversely, I could only assume a vast landscape of my environment would technically be toxic to my very essence.

Maybe…whatever that city was wasn’t made for him. They got along like oil and water. He rejected what it offered- stuff, achievements, companionship, and none of it fit like a puzzle piece. It just feels weird. Wouldn’t that mean that everything would be incompatible with him? Like as if what I saw was trying to tell me I was viewing antimatter trying to get along with matter.

I can’t see myself becoming that walking natural disaster. My essence, what I believe to be, should, in theory, be a blueprint that then generates some sort of shape. My colors, shapes, and lines form in reality from the essence that I believe me to be. In other words, if I believe I exist at all - and since my authentic thoughts are proof that I am Ishmael - then I should have a body. Although my body might be an acquired thing from what I believe me to be, what it tends to be and what feels right to me would be the existence of me. What urges me to act, whether or not that action is easy or simple, has to be me.

In some sense, maybe it is the substances around me that try to nip and pull me away from what I am. Maybe that trance had a point. Maybe, like a poisonous mixture, my continued attempt to integrate into an environment that isn’t me has made me less of who I am. My present state would erode. My future would become less clear. My operation between the present and the future slows, halts, or stutters due to confusion. I operate suboptimally, becoming vulnerable. Vulnerability allows more poison to seep in.

Conclusively, what body I have is not a problem. Every machine has flaws and weaknesses. Cars operate best when they have crumple zones, after all. What it becomes is not a problem as well, as I do not know what my existence should be. In fact, the existence of me is not the essence of me. The essence of me is the blueprint; it is what I should be and, what I tend to be, and what I feel most comfortable to be. But not every day is the same. Not every river I step in will be the same as I’ve done before. Plus, many things that I operate within or in proximity affect me, as well as reveal more aspects of me. How I may react to my environment may not be me, as it is the existence of me and not the essence of me. It may not be what makes me me. But it can be informative of what I am.

What I present to others could be aspects of me, but they affect me: such as harming me, manipulating me, speaking over me, engaging in any physical contact with me, and such. So, others, being instruments to spread an environment that is foreign to what I am, may input themselves onto me, making my existence less of me and more of them. Whether or not they may claim to be like me, their foreign nature removes aspects of me.

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What can only matter, if I am to continue to be me, is to filter all else that is not me. My goal is my essence. If I ever ingest poison, in other words, any foreign agent that operates differently and independently of me, then I will be less of me. Do I seek oblivion? Oblivion is not me, as it is obviously a foreign agent and will lead to me becoming exactly what I am not. Therefore, to be me is to preserve me. To disallow any poisons to enter in me. To disallow anyone forcing themselves onto me. I must be me, and everyone and everything else that is not me, which is to say everything in my environment must be quarantined by physical, mental, social, financial, and emotional rejection.

I began to spiral.

All my peers seek to put themselves into me. They seek to aggrandize themselves, although possibly unimpeding their own essence, they endanger mine. I am not like them. I do not naturally find comfort in what they do, nor can I adapt to their comforts. I writhe in pain every time I even think about attempting to indulge in their comforts. They may be of the environment I occupy with them, but they are compatible and essential to this environment while I am not.

There are those that are better than me. And there are those who are like me. And by all accounts, they could be. But they are not me. They are like them, and I am like me. Therefore I do not want to emulate them. They're not me. I can't even be them, as I would no longer be me. They could be the best in the world, but they are them and I am me and thus I don't want to be or try to be them. I am me and in order to not become something else and vanish as consequence, I would never try to be like them.

I could be strange. I could be dysfunctional. By all accounts, I am both of these things, considering how foreign and hostile my environment is to me. Perhaps I am worse than everyone else. But because I am not them, and I am me, I will continue to have my rough edges, and stubbornly keep the barbs on me that catches on danger. And maybe it will bring the end of me. But becoming not me also brings the end of me. Thus I will either bring the end of me now or later. And since I must be me, or else I would not be me, I must attempt to forestall the end of me for as long as I can.

With what I was given, I wouldn’t call any of it talents, enviable, or worth having. I feel like a hoarder rather than a dragon guarding its riches. These aren’t riches. I’m ordinary. Ordinary by my impact rather than my uniqueness. If anything, my allergy to my environment is a sign I am weak. Weak, and there is nothing I can do to become strong, resilient, or valuable. I am a decaying pest. I suck.

Whatever tasks I could do is the dying breath of my essence. What abnormal tasks I can accomplish simply proves the difference in my essence. It may not be better, and as I suggest I have proven, it is worse, but it is me. I am me. I am no one but me. I cannot wake up one day as someone who is not me, not even me 2.0. I can only be me, or otherwise I would not be me.

I am like this, and I cannot stop “being like this”, since it is me. So what talents and what maluses I am mixed with is what my essence will leave me. Not my riches, not my connections, not my place and time in society could even define what my talents and maluses are. They are independent of me, and quite frankly irrelevant. My talents are within me. Some may marvel at them in such uniqueness. Some may scorn them in their alien nature. They all desire to flip me into what I am not.

In other words, my existence is that which will always be prey. I am threatened. I am hunted. And I cannot hunt, as it is not my essence to spread me-ness. I am me as much as I can be, and being me only sprouts one of me. To be me does include my body in theory, but does not allow the proliferation of me, as it would then not be me. It would be an existence independent of me. Even then, what my body produces is not me, rather an existence of me. Me, I, am influential on what I produce, but my production is a foreign agent to me. Often, what comes from me, as it is so alien to my environment, quickly is devoured and subverted. It becomes not me as quickly as my environment can make it be.