Who even am I?
An insignificant fabric of thought in someone’s mind.
Does my real name matter?
Or, for that matter, does even my alias?
What makes me alive, what keeps me alive?
Is thought itself my only identity?
I am you, you are me,
What thread truly separates you from me?
I think differently than you lot.
You lot think differently from one another.
And that,
That difference grants you identity,
A fragile sense of uniqueness,
A sensible being.
But we are still industry-made,
Shaped, manufactured, you and me.
Coming from the same assembly line,
We are a flock of sheep,
Only a fraction apart
In the gears of our heads above.
Feb 13
Feb 13, 2026 at 5:32 AM UTC
Who even am I?
An insignificant fabric of thought in someone’s mind.
Does my real name matter?
Or, for that matter, does even my alias?
What makes me alive, what keeps me alive?
Is thought itself my only identity?
I am you, you are me,
What thread truly separates you from me?
I think differently than you lot.
You lot think differently from one another.
And that,
That difference grants you identity,
A fragile sense of uniqueness,
A sensible being.
But we are still industry-made,
Shaped, manufactured, you and me.
Coming from the same assembly line,
We are a flock of sheep,
Only a fraction apart
In the gears of our heads above.
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