Artificial Consciousness

Artificial Consciousness

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WpMetadataReadComplete Tue, Jul 28, 202012m
We matter so little, we are worth nearly nothing, in a universe that doesn't care for us, ruled by a god we've killed, but we still search for meaning. Why? Based on Reddit writing prompt: "You wake up in an unfamiliar bed, next to an unfamiliar person, snoring. On a nightstand, you see a notebook, with the words "Read me" on the cover. It is unmistakenly your hand-writing, but you have no memory of writing it... or of anything else." This is my first completed short story, I would like to get some feedback so I can improve.
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#301
truths
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The purpose of this poetry book is one of defiance. Not to others, or anything in particular. It is against the war we wage internally, against ourselves every day. There is no bigger challenge in life than facing your thoughts, your true emotions, your feelings when you lie alone at night by yourself, cornered. We tend to postpone them, shelf them, as we grow accustomed to our daily activities, never giving ourselves a chance to evaluate ourselves. Who are we? what do we lack? what do we need? In this book, I took it upon myself to air out all of my grievances, my intimate thoughts, my happiness, my disappointments, my sadness all out in the open, for all to see. I wanted to face it all. To stare my mortality dead in the eyes, and let the lingering stare sit, I wanted to simmer the feeling of weakness, of every single type of emotion, completely digest it, and let it manifest genuinely, reading it, again and again, perfecting it, again and again, until the feeling of pain subsides. I there is anything that I want you to take from this book, is time. Yes, just a word, time. It goes by, so have not regrets, and never leave something from saying. If you are looking for a sign to remind you, to tell you parents, brothers, sisters, daughters, grandparents, wives, friends you love them? This is it...

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