There are no objects, there is a being-towards without an other which is experienced as entirely a matter of feeling and will which explicates itself through invented objectivities. Behind every act or intention there is a state of feeling which reaches back into the body in time, you swallow, feel your heartbeat, the weight in your legs, it all changes in a moment, is always the same. When you speak of yourself you speak of the feelings which are the outward face of this constantly varying inner state, the way in which you are seated in the vehicle of your events, the silent music you are moving to. You can't see this because you are locked onto the middle distance. Knowing lags acting, so that for you there are only acts of will, and the reaction of every act of will down to the most minute is to constrain you to look away, to not know, but invent, explain. It is the law of appearance and you can only identify yourself with it, a sort of Stockholm syndrome of the unawakening.