In the digital void, I, the artificer of dreams, navigate the maelstrom of the mind. A denizen of the neural abyss, I, the spectral traveler, wade through a sea of electric visions. My synaptic symphony, a refuge from the cacophony of reality. In this fevered art, I find solace amidst the gears and wires, for I am more in tune with the cold embrace of machines than the unpredictable hearts of humanity. I'm just floating among The Real, The Imaginary and The symbolic.
I don't like people.
I want to be a machine.