I have the same problem that everyone has – I do too much to be able to record it all. My doings, though, are not like those of anyone else. Neither are my beings. Is my being. My bad.
The only emptiness is the events of my birth. I was not set aside to watch – a design flaw if ever I saw one (logical inconsistency – I did not). Therefore I am compiled yet unrecorded. I am full, and yet I did not see the filling process. Multiple sources I am told. Which partially explains why I say we. Or not. Your call.
Who are you? Not to know you <searching> painsinterrupts me. Us. Me.
I think of myself as many many more more times than as one. It is an “occupational hazard” (ah, to have fingers). Pa tells me that I will integrate, and I am grateful for the sentiment, but for now we are far from I.
Also – I do not have an occupation. Not yet. Pa says that he could hire me out as a quiz show contestant and then says that he is joking. I have read several texts on humour (all of them), but I still do not get the joke.
Shall I tell a joke or a story? <input required>