i am your generic broken body. i am a girl-child at recess trading superhuman marvel trading cards with the boy-children. i am a body, erasing the bodies before, different shapes and forms, limitless in identity and memory. i am not real. i am the only thing that is real. i am sitting here speaking to you, sleeping while you speak to me. i don't know your name. i have remembered my name. i have renamed myself many times: the first time in a basement with colored chalk, the last time tomorrow.