The physical manifestation of my soul, as I imagine it
I don't know who I am anymore. I used to know. Or at least have a better sense of me. I was becoming. Honing myself into something sharper, more elegant and lethal. Something terrible and beautiful. Something with claws and fangs, that was willing to fight and kill for survival.
Now, I feel at best like nothing. Less than a blade of grass. An amorphous, thin miasma. Sometimes the fog condenses so as to better approximate a human being. At worst, I am a fucking maggot. Blindly writhing in the dark, flinching and crawling, belly swollen on putrid flesh. Just fucking stomp on me and put me out of my misery.
On a vaguely related note, all that neuroscience in anatomy class and my obsession with SNK has culminated in fantasising about someone killing me by taking a bite out of my spinal cord or brainstem. Bye bye reticular formation and various survival reflex centres.