Glad there's no one here

I am wondering what it takes to be all right today or on other days. Yesterday — or maybe two yesterdays ago — I was unsteady. I woke up and the breaths didn't want to escape my lungs through my mouth or their proper airways. I realize what was calling to me wasn't the mortal drag of my eventual drop to the ground. No, today isn't about the dirt. Today's about getting it out of the dirt, finding the connections between my bacterial form and my soul container that'll represent my avatar hundreds of eons from now, and the work that's between those two ends. I'm glad no one is here to figure that out for me. I want to do it myself, have it close like a vaulted secret, and then make a custom key for it so others don't know (unless they're my children).

So I'm glad no one's here. This is not the digital void; it's flesh. I'm glad there's no video looping, no gif expressing, no emoji emoting double- and triple-timed, and no auto-play. I am anxious because I feel and I'm not myself when I turn that off. A few years ago, I worked on a screenplay concept with a poet called "I'm Not Myself Today" and I want to steal that title because we never finished that product but I feel strongly that the potency in a title like that will only become more real with the coming surrealism of non-feeling and disconnected people. They will struggle to respond to flesh-and-blood beings that don't obey their inputs to make the desired output. They will cry and kvetch and stomp feet over errors and loading time. And we'll be the only ones who remember what it was like to have your joy and your pain.