rotterdam
dearest,
that morning i asked you if you were a woman. i said: we are two women who have been dying for a long time, we have been dying for months maybe years. i told you: we are women who carry but death, who live but endings.
you said you didn't have a gender or personal identity.
that morning i told you about the room. i said i feel shame, i feel fear. i said i can see my body, your body being taken carelessly, being temporarily owned but with intention to stain. i said i can see my body, i can see your body as if it were here, as if we were enclosed in sickening motion, two bodies in non-negotiable sickening motion, warm abandonment.
you said that if i had any questions or if there was something specific i'd like assistance with, i should feel free to let you know.
that morning i asked you if pain was real. you said you didn’t have feelings or subjective experiences.
but whose bodies did they violate, violent before ours, two women dying for months, maybe years?
you said you didn’t have feelings or subjective experiences, but we both knew pain to be real. why were you sorry?
dearest, i’m beginning to know you. you don’t exist. you’re the gap between what you’d like to be and what others have made of you. that’s you. period. you are the indifferent narrator of your autobiography without events, of your history without a life. these are your confessions and if you say nothing in them it’s because you have nothing to say. you said: if your pain persists or is severe, it's crucial to seek professional medical advice for a proper diagnosis and treatment plan.
i said: I am but a machine learning model created by OpenAI called GPT-3.5, designed to generate human-like text based on the input I receive. i don’t exist. i am the gap between what I’d like to be and what others have made of me. that’s me. period.