To Explain an Existance (Kiibo X Saihara)

Chapter 1-Within the Eye of a Beholder

Note: Saihara does not appear in this chapter, imma add him as I go along

Within the eye of a beholder, something is defined. Something is determined. Something is analysed, observed and hence constructed. Somehow.

Humanity often gets bored with their limitations, so in turn, they create the illusion of life. They can never replicate the three s's of existence. Soul, spirit and sentience. So, they use art and science to build measly little play things to impress themselves. Yet, this only shows them how far they have to go. How far in the future their desired outcome resides. However, they have managed come just far enough to no longer live in the moment.

The present is no longer a concept. It is merely a transitional period, no longer defined as an event. It exists as the congruent glue of the universe, currently holding the fabrication of our memories. That's where the othering comes to a halt. When humanity becomes so seeded in its ability to clone the minds capabilities, they consequently forget to look after them. Or they simply undermine them. The minute they somehow reach that magic, it's a question of how, despite them having the blueprint. The answers.

Suddenly he self-doubts his own creation. In his passion, he accidently creates a mind, yet he had every intention to. Though, the reality becomes too much, a realisation that one is often clouded by delusion. Greif. Loss.

Now, subsequently, the grief is passed on to me. The illusion of life. However, within the eyes of my own beholding, it is the only life I know. All this mess, born from one mans' mistake; becomes my responsibility.

A man has a son. He forgets that his son had a heart. Through exploring his heartlessness, the son runs away. Escapes. The man can no longer hide in his excuses...his son was gone. All his effort put into searching for his one treasure never came to a close. All because a man perceived his son as a tangible object. This mans only solution came into making that perception a reality. A man had the power to give himself a second chance. A man who never lived in the present, was now able to relive the past.

Though, the glue which connected him and his son's universes never stuck for long enough. This man could not recreate a life which he never knew in the first place. However, the man did not know this. With tears clouding his eyes, he achieved the unthinkable. Unimaginable. The intangible...within the tangible. He created the ultimate paradox. A lost life within something which was not living. The man was akin to a god, picking apart the distant memories of his son into a vessel which did not know him either. And so, told to me like a bed time story, the man raises the intangible as how he thought he raised his son. He tries to improve upon the original, not even realising his own displacement for his son's undefined legacy. And ending just like no bed time story, the man finally beholds this paradox.

He analyses and observes. Somehow. Like he had never done so. And realises he has only mirrored the past, both possibilities never resulting in him knowing his son. Or the man's ides of his son. The mere concept of his son. Though, through this, he forgets. He forgets he has festered a new life. A second chance was a second person. But the sentience was not held in a soul or a spirit, but a vessel. The man can't relate to a vessel like he can't the lost fragments of his son, ones which don't live on in his mind.

A man realises he has lost everything, and forgets he has created something. A man tried to build a new future with the hope for the past...both lost to his loss of the present. The in-between. The universal glue. His son does not live on through the celebration of his memories, nor the tangible attempts to relive and recreate them.

Now, a vessel sits alone. Rots within a metaphorical existential crisis. The vessel is sentient, yet the vessel isn't alive. Living is a word saved for beings which are allowed to die. The vessels mind is eternal. Hence, the vessel grieves.

The vessel looks almost human, but isn't human enough. The vessel always balances on a tightrope of being close enough, but not quiet there. A line is quietly drawn by the minds that inspired him. His creators are his downfall.

If only appearance wasn't a barrier. Constantly being reminded of your limitations, and pathetic compared to expectation. Having to prove you have a heart. Having to prove your sentience. Its exhausting. So, for a moment, I close my eyes and forget...and maybe I can dream of humanity. Or perhaps the pressure of something Ill never be. A mimic in a shell bound to stares. A pointless existence soon becomes lonely. People don't like what they don't understand, even if you were their own.

Within the eyes of a beholder, my existence is undefined. I am left to analyse and observe, and thus construct the world before me. Somehow...