Atomically, there's nothing to you. If we press onwards beyond electron clouds, protons, neutrons, quarks, nothing but nothingness awaits us. It's all vibrational waves of energy manifesting the realm of the physical - a cosmic giggle, a dance, a celebration.
Chemically, however, you are something, a concoction of weird stuff that induces feelings, emotions, this trip. You're hallucinating from the ingredients that comprise you, forgetting that what's before you is a reaction from what's within you, what is you.
Biologically, you're an animal, a three-dimensional being of Earth. Your body is of this planet, this environment. It shares features, DNA, and nature with other earthlings, implying your body isn't a separate spaceship carrying you; it's a force deeply connected with all beings throughout the history of organic life on Earth.
Mentally, you're an intricate web of everything you've ever perceived - the mind. You're also an ego. You tell stories, create characters, play out roles. You linguistically format an identity and act accordingly to a script.
Intellectually, you're an alien. You dreamwalk and time-warp between dimensions of experience through fantasy and memories. Because of that, there doesn't seem to be a limit to your creativity. You're a descendent of the fantastic imagination.
Ultimately, you make no sense. You're a mystery we cannot rationalise, for we cannot logically refer to anything to explain existence as there's nothing to base our analysis on; for what is there to reference other than the mystery itself?