William Moore

It is fascinating how nowadays artists get inspired by the past events and create such outstanding performances. Of course, they spice things up with interpersonal drama to make their art more appealing for general audiences. But was always like that, wasn't it?

Either way, what is also intriguing, youth's perception of all these historical figures. Perhaps you could compare it to your own thoughts on the subject, as... As a being? As an entity? Eh, as one, who has been around for a while now.

hello . i am sorry for dissapearing for a few days . i was confused and worried after accidentally posting that picture , and soon after that the laptop ran out of battery , while bertha was not able to visit me until today . that gave me time to calm down and think . i realised i was so worried about posting this picture exactly because i was afraid of what people here might think of me , seeing my form . it is odd . i always knew i scare people , but it never bothered me because most of those who saw me became a part of me . but here , it seems , people are more than that to me . exactly because i can not reach them .

but we talked it through with bertha . and , well , i understood that perhaps i should not pay mind to those who are afraid , but instead to those who are not . bertha said that the ones who really care would be able to look beyond the form . and , perhaps , some would care not in spite of it , but for it , too .

so , that is why i decided not to remove the last post and that now it is due time to really introduce myself . my name is , or , perhaps , was , william moore . you can call me william . and this is how i look . of course , it would be hard to capture my full form , so this is just a part . not a small one per se , but not a full picture either . well , perhaps it your imagination can fill in the rest .

hello . the truth is , i already do . animals , big and small , rarely make it close enough to me to become a part of me . their instincts more often then not tell them to stay away from this place , and from me . i have established that i am not human , for myself as well , but i do smell like one , so animals tend to detect that . however , on those rare occasions i get animals close enough , i invite them , too .

there was one told by a woman , who was reborn in fire , skin , muscle and fat melted into wax . i must admit, as much kinship as i felt with her , she also terrifies me . destruction is distant to my nature , i do not destroy , i change . besides , i think fire would be the only thing able to kill me . and , despite all of my doubts, i do not want to die yet .

there was one about a gravedigger . he found solace in soil , as it rid him of his nightmares , and a true sense of self in all those graves he had dug up , and so , he wanted to share his solace with others . i understand him , too .

but there was one which has truly spoken to me . it was about a man , and a book , which has taught him about flesh and bones . i remember the exact phrasing . the bits of himself he actually liked . and so , he got a chance to change , to construct himself into what felt right . i was touched by his story , in a way, because of how similar we turned out to be . i wonder if he is still around . if we could meet . i do not think there would be much for us to talk about , but i would love to see his form for myself .

there is one commonality all of these stories and myself share . we all escaped a life we dreaded .

It's a strength, because we define what we are. Everything is a choice. And if one chooses to reject the label "human", for whatever reason it is no less valid than choosing to drink mint tea instead of chamomile.

You are a human until you say you aren't, until you chose to transcend. You say you aren't, therefore you aren't. It is that simple. You may be made of same material, under a microscope you may look like us, you may still be classified as a homo sapient, but you aren't a human, because humanity is a construct. And construct that doesn't serve gets demolished. It doesn't serve you, William. It did serve people from that book. That's why they are human and you aren't.

hello . your words gave me a lot to think about , and , in a way , they had put me at ease . i find myself questioning things so much as of late , and i am thankful to you for helping me understand myself more , at least a little .

i have always been easy to convince , i admit , and so , for a certain part of my life , humanity as a concept carried much significance to me . and then , after i changed , it had suddenly lost all meaning . and for the time being , for so many years to come , humanity did not bother in the slightest . it did not cross my mind , at that matter . but now i find myself thrust back into some semblance of society . it is hard to perceive as a real one , and even harder it is to conceptualise that behind this screen there are people , too . still , i find myself back at that threshold of humanity . am i truly indifferent to it now ? and am i truly inhuman ?

thankfully , bertha arrived in the end , later in the afternoon . she tried to hide it , but i knew she felt uneasy . bertha did not bring up our arguement herself , but it had troubled me , too , so i had to bring it up instead , despite my worries . i apologized to her and she apologized to me . she said she should not have rushed me , and i said i just need some more time .

i told her about the book , what doubts it had brought up in me . it is just . . . so much . what happens if i do accept that quentin is gone ? what happens if i do accept that fusing people to myself is not good ? can i just erase what i am , revert it ? i know i would be miserable as a human . do i just keep doing what i am doing , making people a part of myself ? or do i stop and wittle out ? i know if i stop , i will eventually . bertha feels it in herself , too . it is different for her , but she , too , has to feed . not like me , but not like other humans . and she , too , feels weak when she stops .

hello . well , after bertha left , i had a chance to familiarize myself with this book . to summarize , i have very conflicted feelings about it , and it has definetely left a very strong impact on me . i think i will need some more time to interhnalize it , but i might as well give you my initial thoughts now .

throughout all of the book i had projected my own experiences and existense onto its world and its people , but i had constantly questioned my likeness to one faction or the other . am i more like qu ? or more like people they have changed ? maybe that is the point . long , long time ago i was merely a human , maluable and so , moulded into a new shape , until i could mould others in a similar manner . modular people seemed the most like me among the human species on a surface level , with their bodies consisting of countless individual organisms . at least they had a purpose , each individual with a role to play . but is it not too burdensome ? perhaps , i am freeing my guests of those roles . it is good . i was , too , dealt a set of roles . a son , a student , a young gentleman . i had so many expectations laid on me , but at the very moment i had gained this form , all of those expectations were lifted of off me .

and i have thought about humanity . all of those people had been changed beyond recognition , stripped of their identities , but they still retained that title . human . do i still qualify as a human ? does it even matter to me at this point ? the nature of my change is very different from one in this book , so i might not be , even though i might look more human than some people in this book . it is for good , that i am inhuman .

on a different note , we actually had a bit of a fall out with bertha today . i can not stay mad at her forever , of course , but her words were very hurtful . after i asked her the meaning of all those new terms , she confronted me about quentin . she has known about him for a very long time now , not from my words , but after she gazed into my mind . bertha told me she did not want to bring it up if i did not , and now , that i seemed to be brave enough to post about it , she thought i would be ready to talk about it with her , too . but through all the time that i have known bertha , i never was ready . somehow , i knew what she would say . her eyes were so full of pity when she said it , too . she said that i need to move on . that quentin is gone . she knew because in all of my body the only mind she could grasp was my own .