I am not my body’s reaction to the outside world.
Because I feel it does not make it real.
Pain is an indicator of injury much like an alarm sounds to alert of fire; pain is not personal.
I am stronger than the machine I operate; when it breaks down, I do not break down with it.
When it rumbles, slows, trundles, sputters, I conduct maintenance and nothing more.
My body is the machine, I am the operator. Its pain is not mine. Its biological desires are its own. Its limitations do not bind me.
I am something else.