Perfection Unfolds In A Virtual Reality

CHAPTER ONE - Figuring the truth out. What could the truth possibly be...?

Noises.

Sounds.

Words of adolescent children.

They may have perforated a crater in my heart, but in the end, it doesn't truly matter. Popularity won't support me with my mental illnesses no matter how painfully people think it does. Worse enough, hearing words of insult every day doesn't count either. "Look at him! Is he crying?" I hear a laugh. After obscuring almost all my surroundings, I see repressed facades of laughter, delight, amusement, and entertainment. Ah, I see. I'm being made fun of. It's not a fun feeling - something that makes you peer pressured into being one of them. Vaping, smoking, drugs, all the pre-pubescent stuff that most regret once they reach some age. Years of endearment. Abiding until I feel a sharp ache that decides that I cannot keep doing what I must to put my hands on my purpose and achieve my interminable dream.

"Look at him, isn't he so... ugly to look at? Look at him! He's crying. Hey, stand up, you freak. Throw the trash at him! Throw everything we've prepared for him!" Going home brushing off banana peels from your face, reeking of the expired yolk wasn't the most suitable feeling in the whole world, but I guess I could tolerate it for now. To be honest, I was kind of pathetic. I felt defenceless and useless. Despairing and unfair as it was, all I comprehend is that to them, popularity is everything. Despite a sudden feeling of a presence monitoring and observing my every action, I walk home with no remorse. I've decided. A life where I grow up and do something significant and prominent will only transpire if I'm optimistic. Although, I do believe my classmates can change. Prosperous despair will only lead to death with regret and sorrow. Leaning over the rooftop, sucking a deep breath in. Looking at what I'm leaving behind - education still to be found, my hard-earned brilliance, and my memories here. There are none to be fond of except a few with my late father. A sudden gust of hesitation hits me. I calculate every possibility of my future. Will I be able to live with merry? All answers dial down to zero. A decision has to be made. Suicide. A whole new topic that most prominently exists.

"Wake up!" My eyes stare into the soul of an unknown entity. It looks a bit like a human, but not quite exactly. "So, how was it?" An unexpected question. I committed suicide, and I'm awaken by one that doesn't look like it would ever suit the description of a doctor or anybody in the medical field. "I'm sorry but, who are you?" An obvious stupid question. The person in front of me seems to have some sort of connection or closeness to the previous person holding onto this body, because clearly this isn't mine. I'm clearly dreaming up fake scenarios with myself after dying because my brain has nothing else to do for the next few minutes of my expected death. "What do you mean by that, Xavier?" Xavier. My new apparent name. I examine and scrutinise this person well. "Yeah, man, it sucked." I didn't know if that was the tone I should be using for 'Xavier,' but it was all the effort I could put. "Now that sounds more like you. Eve is a game to apparently help us understand what we feel like when we bully. It's so stupid." Ah, I see. This person likes to make a person's life worse. I didn't know I would be so special that my life would be a game. I can't deny being bullied. "Yeah, I know, it's a load of shit. You shouldn't try, it's so worthless." I might've overthrown the character a bit. "I know right! That freak Elijah had to rat us out, even though he was obviously wrong, like what the fuck? Why can't they listen to us for once?" I know I don't know anything about Xavier, so I need to distance myself and closet myself from everything I know. Completely turn around and become my new person. And that starts with running away. "Nice talk, but I need to go. Refresh my mind for a bit."

I'll survive just like I flourished in every other world. I may not thrive, but I'll survive. My basic needs are obvious. Money. With the face and personality of Xavier, I could get somewhere that would satisfy the fundamental ideals of society. I would have to fit in, somehow. I endeavoured to recollect what Xavier's friend had said. "I've heard of some people who took this V.R. game and forgot their memories about the real world... did that happen to you or are you just playing with me?" Which probably implies that there are possibly additional versions of me. If I did a bit of analysis on the internet, I could discover some sort of clue. 'Can you hear me?' It was a voice shuffling from behind me, but it chimed like an echo attempting to break into my skull. Either way, it was a tad bit disconcerting when you were in the middle of an empty street. The most suitable choice is to not respond since I was evidently going insane from the occurring affairs. 'It's me, Xavier.' The voice was parched, far from my reach, yet it still pushed strongly to escape. Perhaps this is some sort of regret, remorse or guilt I have. It's lurking in my sanity, driving me to hallucinate voices. The coarse voice remained silent for a while. I didn't know where Xavier lived, frankly. Although, I did locate his phone. I used Touch ID to access it, and fortunately, it worked. I uncovered the information about his apartment utilising the saved details regarding the area he lived in. Providentially, the keys were unconsciously kept in his pocket. With sufficient drudgery, I ultimately arrived at my destination. I am required to have an infallible strategy or scheme of some sort. I confess I did have an isolated sensation of excitement. This was way more profitable than my previous circumstances. Even if the guilt would eventually abide over me, I desired to relish these moments. I unlocked the lock with the keys and acquired access to the apartment. It wasn't that inadequate. It was sufficient enough to prevail through the days. Even if it was nevertheless deemed to be my own fantasy. I commenced with the very first and foremost stage and took a diminutive possibility. To perceive this apparent trailblazing futuristic V.R. game. Xavier has previously experienced the game, or what I dub, my life. There were news reports on how 'this game 'changed' people for the better.' In other words, they desired that the person alter themselves into someone they weren't, for the beneficial sake of society. There were numerous interviews with individuals who had undertaken the procedure, and I made the decision that I'd review one of them. These individuals were brainwashed. They had no association with their previous personalities. Now came the consequential query. Who produced this 'life-changing' game? I was basically probing concerning the individual who constructed me. A mere human being, possible of constructing a self-aware form of artificial intelligence that could take over a person's personality, body and soul? That is truly the point of this 'game.' It is life changing. This individual was vaguely my authority figure. It all discerned realistically. The simulation argument was proved correct. Everything I knew about myself was inaccurate. Or perhaps... I'm being monitored right now. Somebody's watching me. My every motion is being documented, isn't it? Or perhaps I'd arrive at a relatively exorbitant deduction. That this was all just a lucid dream I must rouse from.