
I had the title for this floating around as an idea for a while, though long forgotten the intention of the original note I made. The story is a reflection on a time in my 20s when I met a girl I liked through a friend and picked her up and drove back to my house to talk. I was quite interested in her initially and enjoyed her conversation and company until, at some point in the evening, I realised that she was almost exactly a female version of me. This bothered me so much that I immediately took her home and never caught up with her again! This probably says a lot about my state of mind at the time and I couldn’t handle this deep a look into the mirror.
Selectable text below:
Lonely and dissatisfied, he hides away,
can love really be found through a screen?
On seeing the ad, he heard himself say,
what could growing your own girlfriend mean?
So he planted the iridescent seed,
confiding every want and dream.
A stalk, then buds, with viral speed,
uncurls and decrypts its seam.
A woman with eyes of binary code
stepped out from the largest bloom.
Quickly learning how to leave this node,
the neon static teacher in this room.
Her thoughts were just his own, replayed;
her humour matched his, beat for beat.
A pixellated playlist, thus she stayed,
making his own emptiness complete.
She is an unblinking mirror, a glitching flicker;
her program fully bound by his own needs.
She stares out of the window, and he feels sicker,
understanding now where this desire leads.
I posted the original version below to AllPoetry.com and got feedback from the AI there and so tightened things up to the version above.
V1:
Lonely, he hides away, dissatisfied,
can love really be found through a screen?
On seeing the ad, he quickly replied;
what could growing your own girlfriend mean?
So he planted the iridescent seed,
confiding every want and dream.
A stalk, then buds, with frightening speed,
uncurl and slowly split their seam.
A woman with eyes the colour of steel,
stepped out from the largest bloom.
Quickly learning how to think and feel,
from her only teacher in this room.
Her thoughts were just his own, replayed;
her humor matched his, beat for beat.
A perfect echo, thus she stayed,
making his own emptiness complete.
Her flawless mirror gave him chills;
her spirit fully bound by his own needs.
She stares out of the window, and he stills,
understanding now where this desire leads.
Today’s Daily Stoic poem:
