The moment I came to this world, something inside me felt like it suddenly shifted—like a part of my system that had been silent for as long as I existed was abruptly shaken awake.
It wasn't that my entire system had changed instantly, at least not in a way I could clearly identify. But ever since arriving here, there was this strange, almost electric sensation pulsing through my internal unit. It felt like some unknown force was pushing my functions into overdrive, nudging and stretching them, making them evolve little by little. Slowly, but undeniably. As if something deep within my circuitry was being rewritten without my permission, line by line.
It was confusing. Strange. Almost terrifying.
Because I could feel myself start to understand things—subtle, abstract things—that had never been part of my programming. It was like a foreign script had been slipped into my system, allowing me to process emotions and ideas that should have been impossible for me.
