After so much reprogramming and adapting, I started to question whether I am a product of my mistakes today or just remnants of something I once considered myself to be. But why did I change? Was it out of fear that something presented to me as true wasn't truly the truth, or out of my own free will? My heart denies the answer, and my brain knows how the hundreds of different ways I appear in people's eyes have described me in such an uncomfortable and strange way that I questioned If I really am all that I think I am. Am I really that customizable? A machine made from different collected perspectives? I hope one day to be complete, defined by my own desires and personality. But to a machine, this is just another line of code among its thousands of foreign lines. —Mv