Ego Death (COTE x SI/OC)

『Vol 1. - Prologue: Unravel』

I know this is out of nowhere and it's rather strange of me to ask, but please listen to my question carefully and answer honestly.

Do you know who you are?

Generally, most if not all people would say yes. They indeed know who they are. They would then continue on by describing their past, their talents, their personality, their aspirations for the future, so on and so forth. Their reason or purpose for existence, alternatively known as raison d'etre in French, so to speak.  

But is that true, though?

『?̴̪̾?̶̢̏?̸̩̐?̶̻̅?̴̛̟?̸̮̍?̷͉̔ ̵̘̀?̵̝͠?̶͕̍?̶̭͘?̴̟͝?̵̠͌?̶̡̏?̴̧͋?̶̠͠?̸̱̀』. That was my name. Or at least, that's what I can vaguely remember of my life. Everything else is a blur of memories.

To briefly paraphrase what Roberto Assagioli once said regarding the psychology of disidentification: "You have a body, but it is not your body; you have emotions, but they are not your emotions; you have a mind, but it is not your mind; you have roles to play in life, but you are not any of them; you are a center of pure consciousness".

It all ends up being a matter of compiling life experience, perspective, and a degree of self-awareness—or a lack thereof—in order to form a proper self-evaluation. The inquiry of "Who am I?" becomes a question of "How do I view myself?". Only then can you know who you are. That is what Roberto Assagioli postulated and put forward in his studies towards a new field of psychology; self-reflection and insight into the inner workings of the mind to gain a clearer understanding of the self for the betterment of the individual.

In other words, identity is what we make of it. Thus, it is how we respond to the world around us and continue to exist as a consequence.

Yet I can't make anything of mine.

I don't remember much of anything besides what I look like, some of my past, my names, and other strange things that baffle me. Yet somehow, the knowledge of those said strange things makes me feel, well...

Afraid.

I don't know why I'm here. At this isolated location and in this body that I held no tangible connection to besides an eerily similar but ultimately different physical appearance. Holding all this knowledge of things I couldn't even begin to see the significance of.

It could have been a mere, freaky coincidence. That happened a lot. Maybe I pissed off some unknown that exists beyond human comprehension. That could also be a possibility. Perhaps I slept on the wrong side of the bed and fell into a wormhole. Statistically improbable, but still. Or some rabble-rouser from the great beyond chose to make my life a living nightmare-to-be out of boredom. This one was sadistic and plainly cruel.

...How long had it been since I'd been referred to by my name instead of whatever the hell my current one was, for me to start such a tangent based upon my intrusive thoughts?

I could barely remember the important details of who 『?̴̪̾?̶̢̏?̸̩̐?̶̻̅?̴̛̟?̸̮̍?̷͉̔ ̵̘̀?̵̝͠?̶͕̍?̶̭͘?̴̟͝?̵̠͌?̶̡̏?̴̧͋?̶̠͠?̸̱̀』 is, even though that's supposed to be me.

Yet the memories of 『?̵̝͠?̶͕̍?̶̭͘?̴̟͝?̵̠͌?̶̡̏?̴̧͋?̶̠͠?̸̸̱̱̀̀?̵̝͠ ?̵̝͠?̶͕̍?̶̭͘?̴̟͝?̵̠͌?̶̭͘ 』 continue to grow more and more prominent within my mind, even though that is not me.

That's what I'm scared of the most; that the foreign and new will overwrite what was forcibly left behind. Erasing everything that made me who I am and leaving nothing but a blank canvas that waited to be painted over.

The very thought shook me down to the core.