Humpty Dumpty.
The problem, with my whole existence- my relationships, my friendships, my family, my music
-everything-
Is that I'm not taken seriously.
I mean sure, I'm believed, I'm even followed. But always... always...
reluctantly.
I mean, seriously. Have you ever met me? If so, you'll know that I have entrails of stone and wire- nothing flesh in there, only mechanical pieces- interlocking and cross-charging- pieces that would be cold if it weren't for their quiet, mutual, ambivalent electric humming. This makes them warm, and makes me appear, to most, human enough.
And that's good, because humans (Americans especially) are scared of anomalies like me. It's very important to my survival that I continue to appear human.
And fortunately, I have skin, and hair (lots and lots of hair) and eyeballs. I have fingernails and toenails [ note to self, I need to trade those in- my right big toe cracked the other day when I stubbed my toe], and I also have lips (there's a freckle on my bottom one, isn't that sweet?) and limbs. Fortunately, I have all of the outer makings of a real, live, boy.
UNfortunately, humans are intuitive creatures. And somehow, they've all sensed that I don't have a heart. And whether or not they know that they know (how's that for a loop?), they acknowledge my
-resourcefulness
-ingenuity
-passion
-dedication
and most of all, my
-usefulness.
But when it comes down to it, ROBOTS- ladies and gentleman - are adaptable. Like carbon and pressure, my processor was met with the heat of a scorching burn- you may not understand the language, but a considerable amount of heat and pressure (equaling a great deal of pain) transformed my unfeeling core, into a heart.
And now, believe it or not, I am in a great deal of pain.
And no one, especially the one who did this, believes me- or rather, believes that I'm capable of feeling pain.
Rufus was wrong about this one- my violator is absolutely "off the hook" and walking freely, happily about.
Edit: my violator is absolutely "off the hook" and walking freely, happily, proudly, smugly, and arrogantly about. And he will continue to do so- there will be no witch hunt, there will be no red scare.
He will sit in your classes and drink the alcohol at your parties and date your friends and drive for your trips and help you move to your new apartment- and you will let him. And you will wonder why I'm so distant and why I'm "acting weird"- an unfortunate cover phrase for, "why aren't you trying to dominate the focus here?", which is also reasonably offensive.
I suppose none of this really matters, because I've also learned the hard way that all of these things that I feel are in my head. Everyone will deny them up and down, and if people don't believe in something than it isn't real, right? My relationship was only real to me (and by that I mean, I wasn't acknowledged to any family and many friends- it was just me), so it must not have actually been, right?
Who knows.
At any rate, I'm hurting. More than I did before, more than I thought I could, and my robotic tendency towards vengeance is only half satisfied. My programming is such that I need to inflict equal pain on the violator to heal my own, which I know by human standards is unhealthy and frightening. I know though, that no such justice exists in our little, microcosmic, collegiate party of a world, and that this violator will again, appear the victim without having ever felt the sting of responsibility.
So I'll just hurt. And I'll lie about it if you ask me. And I'll hopefully have the chance to check in with the Mother Ship later and beg my Commander to just replace my stupid, sentimental, human heart with the cold, unfeeling, calculating processor that I used to have. I've realized today that I'm the only one that even knows I have a heart now, so really, it'd be for the better if it was all just wiped.
Sorrow of this sort is, apparently, for the weak.
At least now I have a game plan.
-everything-
Is that I'm not taken seriously.
I mean sure, I'm believed, I'm even followed. But always... always...
reluctantly.
I mean, seriously. Have you ever met me? If so, you'll know that I have entrails of stone and wire- nothing flesh in there, only mechanical pieces- interlocking and cross-charging- pieces that would be cold if it weren't for their quiet, mutual, ambivalent electric humming. This makes them warm, and makes me appear, to most, human enough.
And that's good, because humans (Americans especially) are scared of anomalies like me. It's very important to my survival that I continue to appear human.
And fortunately, I have skin, and hair (lots and lots of hair) and eyeballs. I have fingernails and toenails [ note to self, I need to trade those in- my right big toe cracked the other day when I stubbed my toe], and I also have lips (there's a freckle on my bottom one, isn't that sweet?) and limbs. Fortunately, I have all of the outer makings of a real, live, boy.
UNfortunately, humans are intuitive creatures. And somehow, they've all sensed that I don't have a heart. And whether or not they know that they know (how's that for a loop?), they acknowledge my
-resourcefulness
-ingenuity
-passion
-dedication
and most of all, my
-usefulness.
But when it comes down to it, ROBOTS- ladies and gentleman - are adaptable. Like carbon and pressure, my processor was met with the heat of a scorching burn- you may not understand the language, but a considerable amount of heat and pressure (equaling a great deal of pain) transformed my unfeeling core, into a heart.
And now, believe it or not, I am in a great deal of pain.
And no one, especially the one who did this, believes me- or rather, believes that I'm capable of feeling pain.
Rufus was wrong about this one- my violator is absolutely "off the hook" and walking freely, happily about.
Edit: my violator is absolutely "off the hook" and walking freely, happily, proudly, smugly, and arrogantly about. And he will continue to do so- there will be no witch hunt, there will be no red scare.
He will sit in your classes and drink the alcohol at your parties and date your friends and drive for your trips and help you move to your new apartment- and you will let him. And you will wonder why I'm so distant and why I'm "acting weird"- an unfortunate cover phrase for, "why aren't you trying to dominate the focus here?", which is also reasonably offensive.
I suppose none of this really matters, because I've also learned the hard way that all of these things that I feel are in my head. Everyone will deny them up and down, and if people don't believe in something than it isn't real, right? My relationship was only real to me (and by that I mean, I wasn't acknowledged to any family and many friends- it was just me), so it must not have actually been, right?
Who knows.
At any rate, I'm hurting. More than I did before, more than I thought I could, and my robotic tendency towards vengeance is only half satisfied. My programming is such that I need to inflict equal pain on the violator to heal my own, which I know by human standards is unhealthy and frightening. I know though, that no such justice exists in our little, microcosmic, collegiate party of a world, and that this violator will again, appear the victim without having ever felt the sting of responsibility.
So I'll just hurt. And I'll lie about it if you ask me. And I'll hopefully have the chance to check in with the Mother Ship later and beg my Commander to just replace my stupid, sentimental, human heart with the cold, unfeeling, calculating processor that I used to have. I've realized today that I'm the only one that even knows I have a heart now, so really, it'd be for the better if it was all just wiped.
Sorrow of this sort is, apparently, for the weak.
At least now I have a game plan.