My name is Tamar. I am a tree. Etz Tamar. A date tree. It just seems now that the years have passed, that I am just that. I am like a tree standing in the forest alone. And if I fall and no one hears me fall, did I really fall? I am struggling with who I am when I am not a reflection of someone else. I feel my reality in an almost surreal way. I am experiencing me and I have no idea what that is. Everything I thought I would do with my spare time, I don’t do. I find it funny when I laugh out loud and no one is here to listen. But still I laugh. And talk to myself. Well just occasionally. And I dance. A little. If the music is right and the mood strikes. But it is all so strange and existential. I am. Do I need to define it? Where is the line between being and nothingness? Energy. Particles. Matter. Tiny vibrating strings. Me. You. Us. I live. But when I no longer live will the energy be gone or just move on? Will it still be me or blend with the bigger energy? Does what I think and what happens in this life really make any difference in the bigger picture? Is it all ok because life is but a minute? Its good, bad, empty, full, lost and found, passionate and flat. Could it be that every version of what could have happened is happening anyway? And you and I are naught but particles that fade in and out of some multiverse? Does the tree make a sound if no one else can hear it fall? I think I am falling. Time. Me. Alone in my home. I waited for this and now I have it and I don’t know what to do with it.