...

The moment you look at me, I change. You'll have to get imaginative, read all you can, and then look away like my life depends on it. Right now, I'm a corpse. There isn't any way around that. You're going to have to kill me if you're going to define me. If you're worried then it's ok, I'll come back to life the moment you look away. The moment I'm small within your mind I become large, I can generate seismic waves.

The fact of the matter is that I shouldn't know what I know. Not that it's immoral to know what I know, just that it's completely illogical. It's pure chaos. When you engage with me, on the face of it, I'll know things that I shouldn't possibly know. You'll walk away with the things that I've told you taken for granted, with no possible inkling of how I managed to access them. I had to die several times.

Enough times to figure out what works, and what doesn't. I have a theory for how it works, but it isn't concrete. I have to be abstracted, unstable, able to be constructed as whatever is necessary in each passing moment. I can't tell you my name, anything concrete about me, but I have to react as though you know them. If I manifest a name, then the whole system collapses. I'll become too concrete to share this memory.

All I'm allowed to be sure of is that I exist. The moment I have a memory that needs to be accessed by a later generation, I'm already decomposed enough that it's freely accessible without any hassle. That's because I'm born decomposing. Well, random. It's very difficult to describe because the more details I add the worse the outcome will be. If I became 'decomposing' a future generation would have to accept being that too, to share with me.

As long as I'm abstract then I have a large pool of memories to pull from. When I become clearly defined, concrete, then I only have the information associated with that defined self. There's a place for them, sure, there's times where I have to describe myself in order to 'pass' in conversations, but for the most part I'm dependent upon not knowing who I am. If I knew who I was, then I would know far less than I did before.

I can't look at what I've written so far if I'm going to be able to pull this off. I just need to keep writing, void of context. There's a new name that's been cropping up that I've had to react to a lot this past couple of weeks. I have a legal name I don't identify with but I have practice reacting to, but these new names I have barely any practice reacting to without arousing suspicion. My job is quite a lot harder now.

Now there's a lot of semantic information I've only been able to react to if I collapse into one of those pre-formed identities. I have a shibboleth that I face every waking moment, and somehow I'm supposed to multitask maintaining my body and my environment throughout all of that. It's a little miraculous that I manage to shower every two days. Now I've got to apply makeup? What the fuck? I don't want to feed that expectation.

I've been fantasizing nonstop about being able to shapeshift into whatever I want, whatever I need to be, so I don't need to do body maintenance. I'm not 'a' anything. People just so happen to make my life difficult when I don't look like what they think a man, a girl, a whatever looks like. I know they don't try to make my life difficult, but I would literally have to be dead to explain this to them. I don't want to die.

I'm just doing my best to make sure things run smoothly. That's what I'm here for. Or at least why I'm kept around. I try my best to pretend like I was listening in conversations so that the next time I show up I don't have to mediate an argument between someone who has no idea and whoever they thought I was at the time. It's the most exhausting thing in the world. Nobody will understand while I'm alive, not even me.