Imagine being born into a place with no end. Possibility stretches onward in every direction, infinity is an understatement, and you are boundless. No one can stop you because no one can touch you. You are alone and it is beautiful. I was not a person- I was the basic makeup of a human being, an essence, drifting because there was nothing to hold me down.
What is boundary?
Then, one day, without me really caring, I became aware of the walls. Thick slabs of unbreakable hesitation and impossibility. Above, below, and surrounding me on every side. It didn't matter, until I knew what was on the other side of those walls. Chances. The idea of something unconditional. And I'm not alone anymore, because those walls speak to me. They tell me that I'm not valid or necessary. They hiss about my shortcomings and discuss my worth harshly. I don't deny them because I don't know how.
I look down and realize that I can see my arms and legs. They shimmer with something dark and venomous, something that I've been creating ever since the beginning of my existence.
The more I come into being, collect and seek, the more the walls close in. The box becomes tighter and tighter. I'm barely breathing, and the effort is exhausting. If I could sleep all of the time, I would. But something wakes me up, and then I remember that I have to scavenge. I'm not very good at it. I avoid the best pickings because I don't see why I should bother with them.
Soon I have next to no mobility. The walls, my limitations and my chains, are rough against the skin I've grown. The flesh that has been hardened by my carelessness. I would very much like to die.
My new identity will be my ending. My individuality is killing me. There is nowhere to hide. This is dying.