The ficlet in second person perspective. Read the read the other versions (first person and third person) and tell me which one you prefer.
You are Svana, daughter of Jorge and Heidi, sister to Sassa, mother and wife to none.
There is a burning desire in your heart for you know not what. By night you are tantalised by fragments of dreams that are more than dreams, by day you bury yourself in trivialities and know that you are meant for more than this, more than your relationships, more than your work and the knowledge drives you mad.
Who, what, why are you? The key to it all resides within the fragmented narratives of your dreaming, you know it like you know you have a purpose beyond this everyday humdrum. You know it with an absolute certainty that sits in your heart like a stone, strengthening you even as it weighs you down. But the dreams that border painfully on memory find no meaning within the meagre wealth of your existence, beyond the literal confusion of historical fact and scientific fantasy. And so you wait, wait for some clue, some sign to unlock the mystery that is you.
You are Svana, daughter of Jorge and Heidi, sister to Sassa, mother and wife to none and you are waiting.