My Life as a Machine: Broken Machine

I hates being sick. When people announced that machines couldn’t get sick, they simply broken and somebody fixed them, I thought it was aperposterous statement. How many times have I acquired an illness, a sneeze, and dear God, a magical headache that jumped from my boss to between my eyes?

As I matured, my childish invincibility to disease began to waiver, and before long, the common cold became common, and allergies kicked into my nostrils in the form of pollen, and sinuses was my dear foe. What happened to being sick-free? It was but a dream…

One of the last years in college, I discovered the secret for my body to function at optimum levels for long periods of time. I didn’t attend parties, for fear of not sleeping for a full 7 to 8 hours. I skipped procrastinating habits and completed homework on the weekends to avoid overworking during the weekdays.

“How do you do it?” people ask me, wide eyes imploring me for some magical bean that caused full rest with a platter of responsibilities on the shoulders.

I always shrugged my shoulders, like brushing off the tendrils of spider webs. “I don’t know,” I answered, “I prioritize.” The disappointed faces, the failure I was to them, caused me no grief. I simply kept my face void of anything more than a sympathetic smile. There was nothing to prioritizing once someone figured out themselves through trial and error.

But people…they need to be spoon fed the cure. Everything has to be a quick fix with people. Even robots have caught the phenomenon of laziness and so-called privilege.

Hey! I worked my ass off to become the best machine I could be!

Sometimes, being as strong-willed and well-built as I am, people don’t see the advantage in having a machine in their lives, functioning or not. People can’t see past their sloping noses to realize that they are looking at themselves first before they peer down at anyone else haughtily. To me, people are permanently broken and not looking to fix themselves either.

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