"Who are you?"
"Amir Upton Jr.," I answered, "from 613 East Nod Street."
"No," the doctor said evenly. "That's your avatar. I'll ask again: who are you?"
I sank deeper into leather couch, fluffing the pillow under my head. "I am."
"You am who?"
"I am . . . THE I am."
"Never mind," the doctor said, "We'll get back to that. So what seems to be the problem?"
"I don't know who the 'I am' is anymore."
"Well, we know that you're a creator with a nice piece of real-estate in the multiverse. But the question is: what else are you? No I am'ing this time."
"I…I don't know. I'm blinded by too much grandeur. That's why I came to you."
The doctor put down her notebook and smiled. "That's much better." She straightened her back and cleared her throat. "In the beginning… I always wanted to say that… acknowledging your problem is the start to healing. That's the first step of my twelve step program—a vast improvement over that seven day method you've tried."

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