Perception

I am a girl who feels scared- feeling is a perception.
I am a girl who has white skin- this color is a perception.
I am a girl that likes the taste of cookies-her taste is a perception.
I am a girl who dances- is that what that is?
But, truly, what is this girl?
Not a girl, not a feeling, not a sight, not a taste…everyone perceives these qualities in different ways. Some may like them, desiring to see her again, others may be completely repelled by her smell. At some moments, I may agree and identify with my own perceptions of Self, at other times, I may completely hate them.
And still, this perceived Self, none of these are her. Lydia is not even her name. There is something... what it is cannot be described. To do so would be a voyage into the realm of perception.
The mirror shocks me. Who is that? Well known eyes are not familiar. Everything about this creature is a stranger. And yet, I sleep with it, laugh with it, indulge it with cookies and jewelry. This creature calls itself by the name "Lydia". This creature has an album full of pictures and a thousand memories of being "Lydia".
My mind has left, launched to the outer cosmos- travelling recklessly at brutal speed; and with it have gone my assumptions, my ideas, my preconstructed perceptions. This creature sits at a computer desk, struggling with a heavily beating heart, not remembering, not even knowing if "up and down" exist, if I am alone or cradled. Scared or okay?
None of these words will do, and yet, they seem to be the only language I know. Without perceptions, what is there? Just a huge expanse of nothingness that has no qualities or titles. No tastes or sounds. Maybe there are sounds. Long drones and whistles.
But to experience those would require perceptions…so perhaps, not even sounds accompany this drifter. Is it drifting? It just Is.
Not floating, not dancing, not moving, not rotating, not pulsating, not laughing, not crying, not sucking…its just there…here. And all this seems too much for the creature at the computer to understand…what should it do?
This non-human, non-writer.
This non-woman.
It is in shock.