I’m nothing more or less than an organism. I’ve evolved, more like multiplied, from a single cell to endless complexities strung together. So, a body, probably?
As I grew from bone to bone, tissue to tissue and cell to cell, I could never ornate myself to a particular void of identity. For I knew, I’ll outgrow that void and would be expected to sculpted back to that space.
However, I’m 75℅ liquid and consciously fluid. And rightly so. For how could you hold water in a sieve? Likewise, I could not contain myself in a world with multiple escapes.
Yes, this life confuses me. The universal urge of reducing everything down to comprehensible convenience fails me as a person. I’m a sophist to my own meaning and a Voltaire to my definitions. But still a niche never experienced before.
So, when I put myself out there, I realise I’m a being who’s almost human in the view of established index of humanity and a pure human if I look into the diversity I’m made up of.
I was born to be transient. And I’m being just that.