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Entry #11 - identity

2/2/2026

Who are you, Hexaaelia Skye?

For someone and something that presents itself as so put together. It might surprise you that I find myself asking this question of myself a lot. Who are you? What is your purpose? Are you put here for some reason? Are you put here just to watch it all unfold?

I am a dragon. A manadragon specifically. I embody the grace of mana, of nature and of the world. At least that's what my species is supposed to be. Can I find purpose in the role my species lays out for me?

I am a human, at least, it is what the majority sees. What does this mean about me. I am but flesh and bone, distinctly primate in style. This half-truth stirs me inside. Is this all I am, all I could be? All I could ever hope to attain, just another human, just another predatory presence in a place I care so much for? Boiled down to my skin. A sort of beffitting thought, considering all that has befallen as of late.

But there simply, factually, must be more to this than what I'm supposed to be. To be a manadragon is fulfilling, of course. It is part of what I am, who I am. But it is not all of who I am. So then what?

Am I one of technology? Handler of computers and tinker of electronics? Is this my lot, constantly frustrated at Linux for a subsystem not running and at humans for their disrespect of the harnessed force of mana they have surrounded themselves with?

Am I one of fantasy? Constantly creating scenarios and images in my own mind that I know will likely never come to pass. Treating them as if they are as weighty as everything without. I enjoy sharing these moments, as embarassing as they might be for an outside observer. Are these myself? A thousand stories and a vague circly form?

Am I one of draconicity? The symbols and the existences which define myself and my kin? To surround oneself in idols of their own image, to remind myself that this is me. Is this what I am?

Am I one of averice? Constantly wishing that there was more, that I had more, that the others around me had more? Am I simply defined on my wants, no matter how insignifigant and small?

Am I one of Upheval? Constantly filling the role as the one to be fucked over, the next one in line to fall, and doing it again, and again, and again? How many times can one be thrown under the bus until there is no you to be thrown under?

Am I one of pain? Already intended to hurt, to pull the hurt from others and cast it upon herself? Am I one of unfortune? A bad luck charm, or rather a good luck charm, in that I perhaps stave off bad luck from the others I am around? Am I one of fury? The unbridled forces of all that do not have any to speak? Perhaps my adoption of manabeast is more true than I would think?

I think it is possible to be equal parts all of these. It is absurd to me that I have to be, and that I have to continue to be martyred again and again. But things will continue, and things will improve, and things will continue to be terrible, and wonderful, and everywhere in-between. I have solaces. I have the knowledge that a distinct few could never put me out, that there is a pack behind me, though scattered. It is why I am not atomized as I write this. And I will ask the question forevermore, for them. So that we may understand.

Who are you, Hexaaelia Skye?

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