Copy yourself, make something other a binary you, in a world of starships and code and the fact that death doesn’t really mean anything here.
Right here, we don’t need oxygen or food, in this world of falsity and fantasy and the sweetness of hallucination that aches behind your body. Stand still, headset firmly on and breaths calm, a new world awaits your better self where you forget the depersonalisation of still always being human.
Copy that, you’re the captain of false starships, hurtling through uncertainty with virtual reality comforting you when you realise that you’ll never be like this.
Another you, version fifty-three in a chain, never changing yourself or becoming something better only sticking in mistakes and pretending like it’s improvement.
Copy yourself, make another other for another self, forget your body and transmit human signals to other fake-people who tell themselves aching stories
of a reality that we daren’t change.
Something I wrote for a creative writing portfolio in first year of university.