I am me.

I have had this thought in my head all evening. A very common thought, I’m sure: why am I me, and not someone else. And; I wouldn’t be here, had my parents not decided to have a second child.

It’s strange. I never get rattled thinking about the vastness of space.
I don’t have a problem thinking about “nothing” as in:
What happens to me when I die? Nothing. I stop breathing.
My heart stops pounding.
My eyes close at some point. But essentially, nothing happens.
I won’t go anywhere — heaven, hell, nirvana. I will just become nothing.
Whilst my body will become everything.

But why am I me?
How come, this is the body with the brain of which I think of me as I?
I can lie sleepless just because of that one thought.
Thinking myself into the body of others. What their lives must be like.
How different “I” would be, were I someone else.
So different, I wouldn’t be me.

And I think I just answered the question, so I can sleep.

If I weren’t me, I wouldn’t be.


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