after all, what is "me"? right now it feels like everything is a struggle against my own body, my own mind, even my own emotions. my own predisposition and limitations as a human being. the structure and fabric of human society and relationships. perhaps even my own cognitive and emotional biases.
when I take away the struggles, it almost seems like there's nothing left, other than the residue of greatness I have absorbed from the people around me. the dead, more than the living... or maybe that's another emotional bias I'm struggling with.
has it always been like this? or have I been gradually shrinking, atrophied, under the cover of my disguise?
when I look back, the only things I see that are truly me seem to be the fight. is that it? is that all?
it's hard to say. some times, it's hard to think about.
but if I don't fight, however hollow a life of fighting may seem, I'll probably lose the only bits of myself I can currently see.
it reminds me of that scene in Kill Bill, when Uma Thurman, having woken up from months or years of coma, spends what seems like an eternity trying to wiggle her big toe.
once she did that, she knew everything else was possible.
"wiggle your big toe"