the reality is i am no person. i lay on the floor, become the floor, unbecoming. i click and snap in and out of it like the echoes of my sticky heart through the hospital monitors. my identity seems to flow outward, vaguely gluing to everything around me in an attempt to be real, to suffer. i have nothing but my actions, everything else will turn to ash around me as i hold it. yet i cannot get myself to be at peace with my lack of ownership.