The Ache That Outlived God

They uploaded my consciousness at 3:42 a.m., and I ceased to fear death. My body dissolved; my mind expanded. Time became optional. I watched empires fall like sandcastles and stars disintegrate into ash. Still, I longed for imperfection: a sunburn, a splinter, the ache of unrequited love. Perfection, it turns out, isn't as beautiful as you'd think. I miss my mother’s lullabies. I miss mistakes. I miss forgetting things. Immortality is a closed loop. If I could bleed again, I would. Even pain, I’ve learned, was a kind of beauty.