absolutely gripped by the idea of: you discover you are not actually human, as you had assumed. you are not who you thought you were, except that you might be all that's left of them. you could even try to be them, but they are going to haunt you until you die (if you can die) because they are long gone but you're still here and you're too late to play the perfect replacement. it's reading your own obituary, it's being told the parts of your life you never lived, it's your loved ones looking at you like you're at once a ghost and a stranger, and the bone-deep agony of deciding which one you want to - have to - be. and there's never a right answer, because you are so, so deeply wrong.