I Am Complex- The wired and the flesh

I thought it'd be epic to post my essays on here sometimes like a digital archive lol :p. I have to write a lot so I figured I'd share them sometimes :D! Anyways, I had to write about how I am "complex" which is fancy literature talk for contradicting. Anyways this was very inspired by Serial Experiments Lain (totally recommend watching btw ^p^) but it's still about me. Here you go:

When the game closes and the computer shuts down, reality crashes in all at once like an inescapable truth. The mask slips and I’m me again, but who is the real me when all is said and done? The internet has been so deeply integrated into modern life, it feels like they’re both me: the wired and the flesh. The connections feel real, the conversations, bonding, quality time, but it’s parasocial; they don’t know me, the “real me”, and I don’t know them. The teammates I collaborate with on my XBox, the players I meet on my computer, they’re real. I, on the other side of the screen, am real too. Is the character I play as, enact my will through, and create these parasocial relationships with, and fill hours of my day piloting like a puppet, real? Where do I stop and begin? The “real” me, the flesh, has been here since birth; it holds my memories, my feelings, thoughts, opinions, and reminders. Everyone I’ve seen knows a different version of me, a version different from how I see myself, but they’re all me; the scholar, the slacker, the artist, the poet, the geek, the athlete, they’re all me. My family sees me, but so do my friends, however, ask either about me and you’ll hear something unique each time. I know who I am, those around me know a different version of me, but we’re both right. I’m malleable, liquid, ever changing, but it’s still me. The online me, the wired, is artificial but it’s still me. Everyone acts differently behind the screen, for better or worse. No face, no name, no identity, a perfect mask of anonymity to hide behind. I’ve never wanted to just be a face behind the screen, I wanted to be real. I’m not some kid hiding behind a gray profile picture with no posts or bio to ponder, I’m there and I have identity in the media I create and consume. However, I’m still different behind the screen of my phone or laptop, I’m more ambitious, innovative, me. Sometimes I ponder at two AM when I’m 4 hours deep into a game if the self I project online is more real than the person who stumbles around day to day. It’s pathetic and detached, but I feel free to be me online when I can’t see them cringing at my stupidity. It’s still all just a manufactured personification of the flesh into technology. I feel like myself, but what’s more real than human connection. I adore my friends I’ve connected with through sports, school, and clubs, so I make the time to call them and talk even when we’re miles apart. However, we could talk for hours over the phone, laugh until our ribs crack, play the best games online together, talk about our lives, our real lives, but when the call ends, emptiness covers you like a weighted blanket. Only then can I grapple with reality: I’m alone in a dark room surrounded by the sounds of a game I haven’t closed yet. It felt real but nothing is the same as real life human interaction. I believe that I exist in both the wired and the flesh. We were given so many mirrors we can see ourselves in, but so few of them are honest. I can choose who’s me and I can live that truth because the flesh is my will and the wired in my implement. I can be the athlete, the slacker, the poet, but I can also be the random person in a game you meet once and never again. One isn’t more real than the other, they’re equally and wonderfully me. The interconnectedness of the internet can make you lose the things that make you human, but our connections to the life surrounding us is what makes us real.

This is what I submitted and its final, but I'm open to thoughts, opinions, or critiques if you want :). I hope you liked my essay and I might post more of them in da future =p. Bye bye!!