Existence.

I wake up in the morning. I am alive.

I move, I hear, I speak.

I breathe.

But do I think?

            There are questions and responses.

            I answer. It’s a routine. No thought required.

But do I feel?

            I am aware of pressure.

            The water from the showerhead on my body. The carpet below my feet.

            These are not emotions…

But do I see?

            There are buildings, people, colors…

There are leaves that float to the ground as I stand still and watch.

I avoid the gaze of passersby on the sidewalk. I don’t want to know.

Haze. Fog. Clarity no longer.

            Can this be sight?

I exist in the world. I am alive.

I take someone’s hand. There is warmth. She is alive.

            My hands are cold, devoid of heat. Am I alive?

A friend. But do I know her? Does she know me? 

            How can you know someone?

            There are facts that you can memorize. Does this mean anything?

            You can expect things from people, know what they are likely to do.

            Are people so predictable?

Everyone has a story. I have a story. I am alive.

            How much of my story is in my head?

            Is it real?

            Am I merely placed in a body? Am I alive?

The world is filled with stories I’ll never know.

I communicate. I am alive.

Words that beg to be spoken go unheard.

They are only in my eyes.

            If they remain in my head, can they disappear?

            Do they exist?

My truth stays only with me.

            Unexpressed. Does it exist?

I know I exist. 

Am I alive?