Don't ask me who I am.
Because I don't know either.
I don't even know my gender.
Maybe I don't have a gender at all. . . . . .
I am a person, an object, or a wisp of smoke. . . . . .
I live in earth, hell, or the dream of my imagination. . . . . .
I don't know, nothing. . . . . .
All of these are mysterious mysteries to me, and I enjoy the various uneasy feelings I get after solving them.