january's writing prompt was to write a piece in ~30 minutes about a cabin by a lake, that could then be passed around for critique.

i went in kind of hard on the lake front, but we were told we could get as creative as we wanted with it. here's some slapdash thoughts on quantifiable identity.

the water holds you in stasis.

there is little sensation. there is nothing to see. there is nothing to hear. it is you, and it is the water. the lake swallows you whole.

you let it.

the water dissolves your clothes like tissue paper, pulls your skin from your bones, tugs your heart from your chest. it leaves only you behind.

you. just you.

in the murky depths, it is hard to know what 'you' remains. you cannot be observed, so you cannot be what the world thinks of you. you cannot be measured to be given objective traits. you make no movement, floating dormant in the lake; you cannot be the actions you take, nor their consequences.

unobserved, unmeasured, inactive.

here, drowning in the depths of a lake, all that remains is a question:

who are you?