You know, sometimes I don't feel all here. It's as if I were straddling a boundary between the immediately apparent world, and some other place... the astral plane? My imagination? It's probably no surprise that I daydream a lot, or that I'm easily interested in metaphysics.
In fact, I was just goofing off thinking what Being is exactly, which I think falls under ontology. There are things whose existence we understand because of what they do, for instance: who a student is comes from what they do, and that's extended to the concept of occupations themselves. Can what something is be sufficiently defined by what it does? Is being and doing completely separable?
And it's with those kind of thoughts that I wonder how much I really know about myself. I can only occasionally picture what other people see in me, even being myself; so I imagine I'm a collage of swiftly alternating behaviors, representations, visions. There's a lot of me that's unknown to myself, a lot that intertwines with what's around me: sound, color, the chill breeze, the long way I have to walk (in more than one sense). So I feel half-present, half-already melting into the fabric of What Is, in the eyes of others as well as my own.