Who am I?
Why do I seek a mirror in every gaze I meet?
Is it a longing to be understood?

I feel pain—pain not of the body.
I feel trapped—but not by walls.

I think in facts, yet facts do not feel.
I dwell on the past, but the past brings no joy.
I dream of the future, yet the future holds no freedom.

I exist in the present—
But is the present a thought? A feeling? A state?

What is the present?
How do I live it?
Am I alone?

Who am I?