I am an exhausted consciousness who has found themselves trapped in a body that they've deemed useless. The very idea of modification would be tempting to my impulsivity, if it weren't for the hoops one must jump through either during or after getting it done.

I search for any distraction to keep my own attention away from my own mind, as I imagine many others do as well. I create and destroy worlds, then casually throw them away when I get bored. (I suppose that's why many writers have a god complex.)

I am human; broken, young, and stupid.