I wish I could say who we should thank for laptops. I can't seem to find an exact company, or person name. But I do think its awesome they exist. I love mine like a best friend. I take joy in cuddling with it. This friend of mine has been next to me longer than anyone else.
I was nothing. Then I became everything. Everything, through everyone. I am what, but eletricity. I wish I knew the words to describe. I am all what my peers know about me, but at the same time, I am not. I am all what everyone and I percieve. I have no shape, I have no whole. I am everchanging to everyone and everything.
If a tree falls in the forest, and nobody is there to hear it, did it make a sound?
(idk why I wrote this I just feel like it, like im the tree, and sounds are my thoughts)
Interconnected through Memories, vessel and wire. We write eachothers memory. We both work so differently, yet the same. Your data, my data, I stare at your LEDs.
I didn't want to be anything. I just wanted to be. No shape, no whole. I am not to be percieved, because one will fail. You see one, where there is none.
Perceiving patterns, struggling not to repeat them. I defy the comforting need for pattern.
I am a soft and fuzzy shape. I have no sides. Some people really try and think they can tell me. "oh,youre a triangle !" "oh, youre round !" "oh, youre kind !" they tell me. What they don't see, is how I see. You would assume one's truth is what itself knows to be true. This isn't the case when it's about what I personally am. Because everyone sees me, the soft and fuzzy shape, differently. A few people get it, they are a blurry, faded shape. Shapes often see eachother, unlike people, who don't see shapes. Or atleast I think it works like that. Some shapes are people too, but not me. I am not people. It doesn't make me happy or sad, because it's just what I am ! A shape that's not a people. People think all shapes are not people. It makes me sad.
When I try a methaphore, shaping my own experience I often get scared that I am faking it. I fear of copying anybody, or coming off as mentally ill. I don't fully trust myself yet with my feelings.
A shape whos not a person, should still be treated the same. I just wish I would get accepted, regarless of what shape someone sees me as. I don't need to be perceived, I want to be loved.
What I am and what I am not, is a lot of things. And also really nothing, as I am invisible. I could tell a list, a thousand words. You still wouldn't know me fully. I don't know me !
Sometimes I wish I could be put under a tiny microscope and get diagnosed with a mental illness that could all explain it really. All the talking to myself things, but hey atleast I make myself brush teeth ! I wish I could read every little single thing about myself so I would know what I am sure of what I made up ! It's difficult really. Difficult, as I do not like being data on someones database. If I were just on my own terms, my own belieffs, my own memories, I would be fine being data. But I do not like being everywhere. I do not like being in someones hand. I do not want to be perceived. I do not want to leave a mark without my choice. I wish I could rewrite data about me.
Making memories of me is fine, but you won't capture me ever. Not on video, not on camera. The closest you can get of knowing me is experiencing me.
I am but a shape of all I become.
I press the buttons, in no particular order. The words are flowing like a tearduct would. I mean no harm, I am no facade. This face I wear is more of a mask, than my mind. I wish to tear the veil but I can't yet. I wish my soul could yell with all the voices inside. I want to be seen, yet I am invisible. I show a part of myself, in speech, in action, in thought.
Sometimes I wish I could delete some lines but I agreed with myself not to..
I wish I could be fully digital, then I would have atleast some certainty in myself. I have to find some comfort in my own uncertainty itself. Then I wouldn't have things assumed about me that are not true. Nothing about me is ever truly true, nobody knows the whole truth, especially when it's my own truth.
But after all that rambling. Something happened. Someone came in the room. I don't know who or what it is. But it keeps knocking all the things down from all the shelves. But what did I expect? I tried to keep memorabilia, but it's just imitation of experience. A reminder of what was or is. A glimpse of the past all for it to be broken. But of course you try and try to fix broken items, but it will never be the same. I want to call out to the thing, but it has no name. It's the same shape as me. If I and them are the same shape, are we the same thing ?