I.

I am NOT PERFECT

JISUNG

The world is painted in the shades of grey. Everything blends together. No distinction. Nothing stands out. Just the blinding light. I raise my head but our eyes don't meet. Nobody is looking AT me. I can't remember what am I doing here. Why am I here? The room is silent. Are they waiting for me? Am I the leader? The role model? The perfection they seek? Maybe I should say something. The light starts to disappear and for the first time I feel. The people, now just figures, shapes, shadows ... seem a bit intimidating. Perhaps they are judging me. Have I done something wrong? I turn around and see my own shadow grow. Mocking me. Laughing at me. I am not special. I am not different. And old sins have long shadows. I make a fist. Anger consumes me. I am mad at them, at the system but mostly... I am mad at myself. For I have followed the order too well.

"It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see."

II.

I am NOT OKAY

HYUNJIN

I am studying, listening to the lecture through my VR but I can't concentrate. The teacher multiplies. The faces are glitching. Are there more of them or is still the same person? What is wrong? It hurts my eyes. My head. Why can't I tell? Who is who? Are we really all the same? I reach out my hands but grab nothing. I am alone. Everything I see only exists on the screen. Why do we call it virtual reality? It doesn't feel real anymore. Frustration. Disappointment. I can't do it anymore. I pull of the headset. The realization pains me but I am angry more than anything else. How long have I lived through invisible lenses of others? Do I even know, who I am?

"We all wear masks and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing some of our own skin."

III.

I am NOT a PRODUCT

WOOJIN

I am in a room full of people, accessing my mental level system. I should start working soon. I am bored. What job should I pick? I hear a weird sound and look up. Everyone disappears. It's strange but it doesn't really matter. Even if we are surrounded by people, we are actually alone. Nobody talks to anyone anymore. Nobody listens to you. You only share glimpses of who you think everyone expects you to be online. How does my own voice sound? When was the last time I used it? Do I even still remember how to talk? I look around and think how there is no me anymore. No us. Only a crowd. Just sheeps following what we are told is normal. I am politician, I am surgeon, I am accountant, I am physician, I am judge, I am psychologist. I can be anyone. But who do I want to be? I am... I leave the last one empty. I do not have an answer yet. Will I ever find it?

"We are no longer born. We are manufactured."

a/n: quotes credits Henry David Thoreau