A tall, lean man sits in a chair across the cold metal table, he leans forward and opens the file on his table.

"I think you know why you're here?"

I nod and lean back in my chair, waiting for him to ask the questions they all obviously had about me.

"Your file is empty except for the most useless of details, you're lazy, undependable and can't stick to a schedule. There's no name or gender or known history."

I smirk, they know less than I thought they did. I mirrored him, leaning forward onto the table and pulling the file towards me.

"Got a pen? I'll fill in what I can. Don't trust its truth though." I speak for the first time and he seems surprised at how easy it was to persuade me. He hands me a pen. I look up at him and smile, "Can I go after this?" He nods. I click the pen a few times before writing in large, black letters over the almost clean white piece of paper in my file.

'FUCK YOU'

I close the file and leave the room, mentally noting to cut and dye my hair and get a new fake passport to leave the country. I'll never give up my precious information to those profile stalkers. 

I frown, if I were going to do that what would I say? I'm a corporeal being that would like to make their living publishing trashy, badly written romance books. I'm not scared of it anymore. I'm a dreamer, a believer and hopelessly stuck in my thoughts. Heck I actually enjoy math, though I wouldn't proudly admit it face to face.

The only thing anyone knows about me is that I'm lazy and don't stick to schedules. I'm just a normal person like you, I have my morals and my values and I'm still figuring shit out - I don't have the answers and neither do you. Live with it, embrace it and ride the tide or being yourself no matter what anybody says. I guess for now that's good enough, maybe one day I'll be me, openly.

I push open the door of the travel agents and flip through the books. Germany or Scotland seems nice, I wonder who I'll be when I get there.