Notes for the other side

The things that make me happy are strange
They’re registering, somewhere in there
Things made of plastic
Things made of code and colour
Movement, sound and some with rhythm

This week I notice that I’m not keeping track any more
I’ve begun to stop trying to evaluate whether everything is real or not
There is a current to life
It can sweep me along
Carry me through each day without my conscious actions
Buried in the Construct are the instructions on how to behave
I let the citizens execute them
Each command
Each response
They’re very good at it
Better than me
Perhaps I should just let them run my life from now on
It tires me, and I understand it less and less
I wonder where I can go