In the mirror's unforgiving stare,
I scrutinize every flaw with care,
My own eyes, the harshest of all,
Judging every curve and line I recall.
 
In hidden corners of my mind,
Insecurities, cruel and unkind,
They whisper of flaws, both big and small,
As I measure my worth by this cruel thrall.
 
I seek perfection, an impossible quest,
Ignoring the beauty I should've confessed,
For within me lies a strength untold,
If only my judgmental eyes could behold.
 
In a world obsessed with size and weight,
I bore the burden of self-hate,
A constant chorus of cruel decree,
Echoed in whispers, loud and free.
 
Magazines screamed "perfect" on every page,
I flipped through them in a silent rage,
Counting calories like a secret sin,
Desperate to find the beauty within.
 
Intense light pierced through the deteriorated lab air, piercing human eyeballs in an instant, squeezing out the remaining moisture from the eye sockets. The image of a needle piercing flesh replayed in the mind, with the internal organs shrinking and rebirthing, a nauseating sensation.
"You should be tamed," a voice said.
I remained silent, perhaps unable to speak.
"I should be tamed," the voice continued.
Under the violent sway of a rubber sun, the void of blackness began to weave. Cells connected to each other, and then connected to the mainframe. In that dark contrast, a fountain emerged, spraying a column of pure white water upwards.
There, she was created—an android.
In the soft, diffused light of the room, she stood there, exuding an almost divine sense of vulnerability. Innocence radiated from her watery blue eyes, akin to the flawless blue amber. A subtle smile graced her lips, and her golden, radiant hair naturally split into two sides, cascading down to her chest. The incandescent lamp above her head bathed her porcelain face in its glow, revealing even the tiniest hairs on her profile. Drawing closer to touch her almost flawless skin, there was no roughness, only a smooth and radiant beauty.
As she stood there, her slender and graceful neck formed a beautiful curve, resembling willow branches swaying in the gentle spring breeze. Her bosom, ample and proud, was like the pinnacle of a skyscraper. Her waist was unbelievably slender, yet her body seemed to shy away, as if bowing down in a bashful manner. On either side of her waist, gentle curves formed, while the contour of her lower abdomen traced a nearly perfect ellipse.
Her entire body seemed to glow with a white-hot intensity, exuding a pristine warmth. Standing barefoot on the cold, white tiles, her feet took on a slight rosy hue, evoking a sense of compassion.
The flowing cascade of long hair, the alabaster and voluptuous skin, the elegantly elongated form, and the graceful posture, all combined to create a vision as if touched by the first light of dawn, both sacred and flawless.
I stared blankly at the synthetic being I had created before me, feeling incredibly incredulous. For a moment, I had forgotten my initial purpose.
When I snapped back to reality, I found myself standing beside the operating theater, dressed in a high-tech laboratory ensemble. Augmented reality goggles adorned my eyes, displaying intricate streams of data and a virtual control panel. Embedded sensors in my gloves detected every nuanced gesture. My fingertips danced across the control panel, orchestrating the intricacies of the cutting-edge memory transplantation device.
The key to memory transplantation was a vital one; it required a deep and personal recollection of life experiences to guarantee the accurate and effective transfer of fragmented memories into the synthetic mind.
… People showered me with compliments, saying things like "You look fit and trim," or even using that word I can't stand, "svelte." "You're so beautiful," they'd declare, and their admiration left me feeling a bit uneasy. A brief smile crossed my face, but deep down, there was a weight I couldn't quite express, as if my heart bore an unspoken load.
With a gentle touch to my temple, I initiated the memory transfer apparatus. The ambient lighting within the room gradually softened, and my thoughts began to blur, merging seamlessly with the digital realm.
Looking at myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but let out a sigh. "Wow, I look really good." But as soon as I stepped outside, all dressed up, my confidence seemed to vanish. "Is this makeup too much?" "Is this dress too short?" My self-assurance faded away, replaced by nagging self-doubt.
Memories flowed into my consciousness, rendered as data streams, akin to scenes from a mesmerizing sci-fi flick, though I am part of it.
Maybe my nose could be a bit narrower, my eyes a tad bigger. I wished for a longer neck and more curves in my chest and waist... These thoughts kept coming up, especially when I looked in the mirror. I'd pinch the sides of my nose, hoping they'd somehow change, or press down on the bridge, as if it might stretch, even just a bit. Sometimes, I'd stand in front of the mirror, shouting in a frenzied state, staring at the tear stains, feeling like I was looking at a completely unfamiliar version of myself.
My memories roiled within the digital realm, now being extracted as binary code.
"I could not accept," I recited in a melancholic, introspective tone. "I whispered to myself, 'I cannot control the desire to transform, to recreate myself anew.' This desire swelled within, akin to a surging wave poised to breach the celestial vault. I stood motionless, no longer the person I once knew."
Memories played frame by frame, flipping and unfolding like a lengthy timeline that was drawn out and slender, slipping seamlessly into the synthetic being's mind. By this point, I was already feeling dizzy and disoriented, as if my body and mind were tingling with electric currents. My limbs felt weightless, and my thoughts scattered like dissipating smoke, unable to form a coherent shape. I stood there in a daze, gazing down at the ground with a vacant expression, like a puppet, tears welled up in my eyes but never quite spilling over.
In a moment of reverie, the synthetic being unexpectedly spoke first, her voice as gentle as a serene stream, almost singing, "My dear, have you ever taken a look at how you've tormented yourself? Those moments, do they still vividly linger in your memory?"
I raised my eyes to meet hers, those naturally radiant and soulful eyes, like a tranquil autumn pool that seemed almost capable of speech, their beauty enthralling.
Feigning ignorance, I replied knowingly, without much warmth, "Moments? I'm not sure what you're referring to." With a raised eyebrow and a tilted head, I cast a contemptuous gaze upon this emerging "human." It seemed as if I needed to assert my superiority, as if driven by an unfortunate streak of competitiveness.
"My dear," she continued with her soft voice, "do you remember the pursuit of perfection, which left you physically and mentally drained?"
"What's wrong with striving for the best version of oneself?" I created this android with the intention of transferring myself into her. Initially, I believed she would only retain the memories I imparted, but to my surprise, she had developed her own perspectives and opinions on these matters. And now, here she was, questioning me!
She gently spoke, "Those were moments of self-imposed suffering, weren't they? An endless cycle of transformation that only led to heartache."
"No, they weren't!" I stated each word deliberately.
"You know, perfection is often just a fantasy, my dear," she lowered her head, sighing softly, "When you get close, it tends to vanish."
"Are you suggesting I should settle for mediocrity?" I retorted indignantly, "If that's the case, then I wouldn't be myself anymore." I huffed in frustration.
"No, no, no, that's not it, my dear," she spoke in a soothing tone, with a touch of reassurance, "Remember, it all boils down to self-acceptance. No matter how much you try to better yourself, you can't fill the emptiness caused by self-rejection."
But how could I easily let go of those deeply ingrained thoughts? How could I silence the inner critic?
I tried so hard to change myself to fit society's idea of the perfect body. I wore styles I never thought I'd wear just to keep up with fashion trends, and I slathered on concealer to hide acne during those tough times. But were all these changes really for the better? Did they truly make me more perfect? Strangely, as I tried to convince myself of this, it didn't work. Instead, it felt like a thorn was digging deeper into my heart, refusing to let go.
"What gives you the right to preach to me? Who are you to stand there and judge me?" I yelled loudly, tears threatening to spill, releasing all the pent-up emotions within, "Don't use those innocent eyes of yours as if they hold all the answers! Don't try to act like those innocent eyes of yours have all the answers! And don't assume your attractive appearance can pull me into some tender trap!"
She remained remarkably composed and blew out these words, even more soothingly than ever before,
 
"For you to see beauty here
Does not mean
There is beauty in me
It means there is beauty rooted
So deep within you
You can’t help but
See it everywhere"[1]
 
Following her utterance, her entire being disintegrated into a mosaic of vibrant fragments, each element slowly coalescing into components of her physical form. These fragments hovered in the air, blending and metamorphosing into different hues of gray, akin to the ethereal departure of a soul. Subsequently, as though expertly woven by imperceptible hands, she disappeared, leaving naught but a diminishing silhouette in her wake.
I sat alone on the cold laboratory floor, gazing into the distance, my eyes swollen and tears still streaming down my face, lips tightly sealed. I allowed the tears to flow freely, unabashedly falling onto the floor. Drip, drop, like time passing by, like tears slowly shedding. The laboratory, in the wake of this ordeal, felt chilling, as if countless shadows encircled the room, swirling endlessly around the ceiling.
 
The night enveloped the entire city. The street lamps flickered like distant stars. casting a faint, yellowish light. I walked step by step through the quiet streets, my shadow elongating with each stride, and you walked alongside me. The long, straight road seemed to stretch endlessly, disappearing into the unknown distance. In the far-off haze, a solitary figure emerged, bathed in the gentle moonlight.
 
Though the path ahead, so long it seems,
Stretches on with countless dreams,
I hold a faith in its radiant light,
A brilliant gleam, so pure and bright.

[1] Kaur, Rupi. Milk and Honey. Andrews McMeel Publishing, 2014. ISBN 978-1449474256, p. 95.