You’ve been watching my life in scenes,
Captured moments that form a story,
You’ve made me into someone understandable.
You can tell me.
Could you build me from scratch?
Make me from nothingness?
Could you collect DNA into the right sequence?
If there existed a program to create a person,
Would you get it right?
Plug in the characteristics to get me?
I want to know what you can see,
Is there a brain, a mind, a soul inside?
Do you see my cells working away,
Or is there something else?
When you stop the electricity,
Who will be left?
I have no interest in metaphors,
Or trying to answer complexity in a word.
I want life shot in real-time,
I want every thought written down.
I want the words to outnumber the molecules in the universe,
And I would read those words,
Every moment of my life,
If I could extend my life into infinity,
I would read until time ended.
Because there is understanding someone and approximations.
What confidence level must be satisfied to summarize you?
i gave up on this piece. I liked the idea of losing your sense of self and trying to understand someone else. We work so long on trying to build a concrete idea of who we are – sometimes traveling, sometimes taking time off from school – yet we try to understand those we love with far less effort and without access to their thoughts. The whole task seems impossible but we still act as though we know other people better than the loose approximations we really have. And then we end up on tv saying, “I didn’t think he was capable of such a terrible act of violence” because we really don’t know. (Although, to be fair, we’ll probably be disappointed and shocked in less dramatic ways, like finding out the guy you love is a liar when you thought you knew him.)