I don't own pokemon. Please remember it this time, because I don't like to
repeat myself.
This idea was suggested by Lightning-Strike. Thanks!
Boxed In
By Farla
It's ironic, isn't it? I'm in a tiny little ball in a tiny little box. I should feel rather cramped.
But of course, the box isn't real. It's simply a way of storing data on a computer. My data.
I sometimes wonder if this is what death is like. To be nothing in a place of eternal space, with no one else. That's what being data is like. No body, no form.
I don't exist anymore. I can exist again, if I'm withdrawn. Until then, this is my world.
It's boring. As far as I can tell, I can't go insane. I think it's because my data remains largely the same, seeing as how I can't do anything. There's no other explanation for why I'm not crazy. I've been here a long time. I have no idea how long, but a long time. I wonder if once I come back out into the world and I am once more free to change, I will go mad. I wish I could go mad now, if only to pass the time.
Sometimes I wonder what will happen to me if the computer is damaged. Will I come out, reappearing abruptly as red energy, existing once more? Will I be killed? What if a virus gets in? Can I even die anymore? Or would I just vanish from existence, with no one to ever notice my passing? It's frightening, to be able to do nothing at all. I have no control over what happens to me. Sometimes I worry something like that will happen. Sometimes I wish it would.
Anything would be welcome by now, even to vanish unnoticed and unmourned with no more evidence of my existence then fleeting breeze. Or less, for the air won't even ripple when I go.
Perhaps this is what death is like. Perhaps this is Hell.
This idea was suggested by Lightning-Strike. Thanks!
Boxed In
By Farla
It's ironic, isn't it? I'm in a tiny little ball in a tiny little box. I should feel rather cramped.
But of course, the box isn't real. It's simply a way of storing data on a computer. My data.
I sometimes wonder if this is what death is like. To be nothing in a place of eternal space, with no one else. That's what being data is like. No body, no form.
I don't exist anymore. I can exist again, if I'm withdrawn. Until then, this is my world.
It's boring. As far as I can tell, I can't go insane. I think it's because my data remains largely the same, seeing as how I can't do anything. There's no other explanation for why I'm not crazy. I've been here a long time. I have no idea how long, but a long time. I wonder if once I come back out into the world and I am once more free to change, I will go mad. I wish I could go mad now, if only to pass the time.
Sometimes I wonder what will happen to me if the computer is damaged. Will I come out, reappearing abruptly as red energy, existing once more? Will I be killed? What if a virus gets in? Can I even die anymore? Or would I just vanish from existence, with no one to ever notice my passing? It's frightening, to be able to do nothing at all. I have no control over what happens to me. Sometimes I worry something like that will happen. Sometimes I wish it would.
Anything would be welcome by now, even to vanish unnoticed and unmourned with no more evidence of my existence then fleeting breeze. Or less, for the air won't even ripple when I go.
Perhaps this is what death is like. Perhaps this is Hell.