I’m Glad I’m Not a Robot

Because if I was a robot, I wouldn’t be able to

eat this bagel and shmear at 4am. The warm

bread and half-melted, plain cream cheese fills

my insides so I can sleep with the knowledge

that my stomach is not alone. There are other

things, mostly organs and the like, inside here,

rather than cold metal and rusty nuts and bolts.

I have a brain. A pink, squishy lump constantly

telling me things like, “you should’ve used the

low-fat, no calorie spread you fat ass”, instead

of a metallic sphere rolling around inside my

skull convincing me to take over the human race.

Although ending my own kind sounds fun from

time to time, I have two hands, two feet, and one

ever-changing teenage mind to make the world a

better place. I have a heart that breaks and has been

broken too many times to even bother keeping

track. I have bruises and scars and memories that

I’ll take with me to grave. I guess not being a robot has

its ups and downs, but I rather enjoy being free from                                                                                                                         conformity.


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