My existence starts surrounded by those that share my identity. As I get older, I move from the those who I love to cling to, and become a little but not completely independent of them. Then someone bumps into me and gives me the energy to go out on my own, becoming freer than ever. As I move higher and higher into the world, I condense myself and my assets with others, and create a seemingly fluffy life. Too many of us join the life of comfort; I and others fall out of the overcrowded space. As I fall, I develop back into my original self. Plop, I hit a bundle of five needles, and roll off hitting a Norway maple that still has its leaves. I sit there as more who share my identity join me, together we bend the leaf and we fall. Most of us loose each other, some hitting the ground, and some hitting leaf litter. I, however, hit something different, a waxy substance that constricts me into a bead. A warm hand pushes me off the yellow notebook, and I fall to the ground breaking into different parts of myself. All the differences that make up my personality, spread out in different directions leaving me alone with nothing but one thought: who am I?