identity

who am i?
sometimes i think of myself as an absent-minded professor.
and when i say my mind is absent, i really mean it's absent. there are times when altogether it's not there.
people i love have called me a terrible communicator. i agree with them.
if i am perfectly comfortable, i can slip into another stream, and i submit to my senses. i see through the tiniest lens sometimes.. i can think so carefully and feel the vibrations of a single moment, trying to isolate the active parts of life around me.
all this is telling me nothing of my identity.
another few seconds pass, and nothing moves.

you feel torn between realising the person you've become, and becoming the person you believe to be. holding fast, grabbing on to the fraying seams, you can't even stand still. there is nothing pushing you around. you look around yourself, desperate and hungry for advice from the unknown.. but as soon as you see something, you know what it is in all its lonely history. you crawl around upstairs, but you've been there before. so you go outside into the wind, and let your bones sway away the time.