Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-25458443-20180720101448/@comment-28428152-20180720134949

EtherBot wrote: I lay on the floor as blood surrounds me.

"Oh God," I say, and close my eyes.

Silence and darkness for a while, then tangible thought comes to me. I'm unsure of the cause, but thoughts start flooding my brain. Pain, I think to myself. What a peculiar thing to behold. It's truly a process devoid of all reason, nor is it requisite of it. Somewhere in my mind's eye, I see the torn open flesh, blood oozing out from it. What a strange dissociating thing to behold. It is in every sense me, yet it is not me, in a way that I'd never be able to comprehend.

Indeed, the leg will soon be gone, but I will feel myself, as usual; no more, no less. Perhaps I'd feel more handicapped-- indeed, lame--but never would I feel any sense of an oncoming existential crisis over losing access to a leg.

"A leg," says I, "is just meat acting on protocol. I am so much more than that."

But what am I? I have to ask. A brain? If so, then I hasten to say I am still merely meat acting on command, although perhaps command more enlightened than my leg. But yet....

Ah! There he is! I turn towards my leg and spot that other me, bent over in a wave of panic as he tries, but fails, to heal the torn bleeding wound. Determined may he be, and indeed he, too, is also me, but then he manages to be somebody else, who's thought process I have no command over nor insight into.

"Enough of that!" I yell. He ignores me, proving that he understands me even less than I do him.

A strange idea seizes me. How many me's are there? Is there, perhaps, more me's inside me than I'd ever come to know? The me that's busy away healing my leg is one who I've acquainted with, although shallowly. But that dissociated presence begs the question of how many more identical versions of me there are who's acquaintance I've never met. I'm afraid it would be impolite for me to call them, although I'm certain they'd be as unaware of me as the one by my leg.

Another thought sweeps over my mind, distracting me from the pain. What if, I wonder, there is truly another me hidden somewhere inside who truthfully could understand my calls? A me within me whose presence I haven't yet found, yet one who knows of mine. A me more self-aware, perhaps, than myself?

Methinks I've thought of myself too much, for now.

I lay on the floor.... Blood surrounds me. Every me. Soon I will die, I realize, before another sickening thought comes forward:

Will all of me? An interesting read, though I would lay off the commas a little bit and make sure to use the correct "then" and "than". I'd also ease a bit on the word "me," even though I imagine this repetition is on purpose. It gets to be extremely repetitive, and I think the point could be made with a little more word variety