Hello there, it is me.

Who am I, you ask, 
well, to be honest, I am not quite
sure.

Who is this
        I
I speak of?
Is I am or am I is?
Who is me?

I have not met this I.
I have not met this me.

But they can tell you much more about me than I can -

They tell me I am woman.
They tell me I am white,
Jewish,
smart,
promiscuous,
fat,
kind.

They say I am defined and thus I try to define:

amongst the 1's and 0's,
those bits concretized in the grid of the orchestrated I for all the Others to consume.

I do not know this I,
and so I consume myself so that I may learn and I may imitate.
So that I can be I,
But who am I?

I say I am strong, but I know I am weak.
I tell myself I am the smartest dumb person, and the dumbest smart person.

Yet I am not who I was ten years ago as I am not who I was when I started writing this poem as I am not who I will be when I finish.

So who is strong and who is weak?

I am all that I am and all that I wish I weren't.
I am everything and also nothing.

I am not man, but I am not woman.
I am neither kind nor mean, fat nor thin, smart nor dumb.

I am desire and I am pain.
I am suffering and I am happiness.

I am the breathe I am taking but I am also the tightness I feel at the armpits as my chest expands,
there isn't enough space for the world in my lungs.

I am larger than the world,

I am fluid.
I fill space,
expanding into,
invading the empty.

But I am the emptiness.
I am also the world.

I am you.

I am.