Windows and Boxes

Then and now, my favorite thing to do has always been looking through windows, looking in boxes. I can still recall that day. Ten years old, my first Pokémon. My friends were my Pokémon, my emotions were calculated through damage multipliers. It was the life. Now, my old friends gather dust under my bed, yet do not age. But I have aged so much. Stuck with humans present, I cry for those digital friends, whom I could love without judgment, whose overall reliability was a tangible number in that Game Boy window, where the only drama I felt came in pixilated, perfectly perpendicular text boxes. Humans are so flawed, but not those Pocket Monsters, whose margins of error were always measured in a perfectly percentaged probability. I know amazing people who volunteer, serve, love. they are deluded, imperfect. I had a creature with low power, basic moves, and that always lost. but It was perfection.