Outlier

Freedom is a curse for people like me.

It makes you contemplate the choices you made along the way

and more that have to be made,

causing you fragments of insomnia every dusk.

Existing without a purpose is worse than turning necro.

This material body of mine is immune to happiness now.

Victory doesn't satisfy me. Failure feels like a checkpoint.

neurons incapable of distinguishing between Sweet dreams and nightmares and

Serotonin is probably experiencing a negative zone.

But there is a way.

A cure that'll push you to nirvana faster than a Xanax pill.

try reading these people.

examine this specimen close enough and you'll See The bigger picture.

underneath the complex biological composition,

lies the exact same boilerplate code that we call a soul.

they are straight-up replicas with miner mutations depending on the routes these creators take in the course of their life cycle.

No one is special or to be more precise no one is free.

All of them are a part of the algorithm.

This is the Answer.

At least that's what I thought until I met you.

What are you?

Why can't I read you?

I'm unable to draw a conclusion.

You don't obey the algorithm.

Maybe you are the Pendoras box which the algorithm forbids me from.

why did I open it?

my curiosity has turned into an addiction.

You were supposed to be a supplement but now you are my life support.

I Accepted you as a catalyst but now you are gone.

if you never intended to stay why did you exist?

My current condition is worse than my initial state now.

Your existence makes me question the system.

Everything was clear to me but you ruined it. you shouldn't exist.

you are an impurity in my solution to life.

in this perfect population, you are an outlier. “死ぬ”.