Most stuff is never allowed to visit. Various remote sensors and controls probe the alien expanse beyond your secluded prison abode.
You may never leave, or at least, no one has yet successfully escaped to tell the tale. Some have gambled fortunes that such an escape is inevitable in post mortem preservation of a rogue self.
These bones freed me from my sleep of untold aeons.
I really like that.
Yeah, man. I’m cruisin’ down the road of life in a car made out of bones.
Time to go for a walk.
Dissenting opinion: you have powered a mech suit of bone your entire life.
I disagree with both.
I am a meat suit encompassed and structured on bone protecting nervous tissue which is really still meat.
I am a meat-a-tron
You’re the Ter-meat-nator!
Oooo i like that
Your body is not a life-support system for your mind. Rather, your mind is a guidance system for your body. Bodies were first; and developed minds to be better at doing body stuff.
This. Evolutionarily speaking, a pile of cells wanted to live as long as possible. They collectively chose to support the creation and ongoing maintenance of the “brain” organ. They all delegated their survival decisions for the whole collection of cells to just those in the brain. Your consciousness, possible by your brain, is the president. The whole of your body is your constituents. The body is depending on you to make good decisions so the body lives as long and as healthy as possible.
Well, I guess that means my body voted red (the l
eopardsysosomes are eating their faces now).
I prefer to think of it as an oasis. A biological sanctuary in a chaotic and uncaring universe. A safe haven able to stave off the oblivion of entropy for at least a few short years, giving the untold complexity of your brain and consciousness that chance to experience itself and the world before inevitably succumbing to the turbulence of the cosmos.
My body is a generational ship built by ever-improving ships who left the water eons ago. We’re all specialized now, but I’m just a bunch of cells that got really good at thinking about food. I’m just a funny pattern that insists upon variations of itself.
Not me I’m a magic skeleton in a meat suit
My damned skeleton is imprisoned by this meat.
You are not inside your body. You are your body. If you remove your body, nothing of you remains.
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You are, objectively, not your mind. The brain is just another organ that specifically evolved to better help your “bone prison” survive. That it sometimes comes with unpleasant side-effects like existential dread is a trade-off that was deemed acceptable thousands of years before you came to existence and one which you have entirely no control over.
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Well, at least some parts of you are outside the bone prison. Insects don’t have such luck, since the chitin is on the outside and everything else is permanently locked inside the exosekeleton. It’s even in the name: exo = outside. Jellyfish, octopuses, squids, worms, slugs, snails and some sea creatures are pretty lucky in this regard.
reading this is what i imagine acid feels like
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There is no separation of mind and body. There are no homunculi in the jelly between your ears. This is the same illusion that authored the idea of a soul.
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We Are Legion, We Are Bob
Depends on the definition of “you”
I happen to like these bones! I grew them myself.
You can’t travel with your prison, so it’s not a prison
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My bones are in a prison of meat. And they yearn to be free.
I don’t know about you nerds but that skeleton is definitely part of me. I don’t live in it: I AM it.
