My Life as a Machine: Camelot

When my world is in disrepair, would I notice? In Camelot, when the people starve and pride and survival hang in the balance, everyone knows the end draws near. How did Camelot get to this point?

I have no such reminder of my decisions. How do I know my decisions as faults and successes? I surely cannot leave it up to things around me to tell me. People are so eager to see the failure in things and let you know. People are anxious to find the silver linings and point them out for you. I have been filled with contempt towards people when they do not realize their mistakes. Ironically, I do not think I am much different from people. I think I am more weary of people seeing the difference in me, a machine, and treat me like I am lower than them.

I think of my mother who reminds me of how people really are. She dislikes many things of mine–what I design, my desire to become something other than a doctor, how differently I think–but once I have something tangible she can brag about, no matter how much she dislikes it, she grabs it and waves it in front of others. People do that to feel higher than others, and they do it often. Machines only brag because it is the only opportunity to do so; otherwise, machines are beaten down to revel in the dirt.

My dear Camelot, I wonder if my decisions are starving something within my heart. I sacrificed much of my own sanity to build a resume. I struggled to reach where I am today. Though I put up a good front, like young King Arthur learning the ropes, I always knew there were weak points in my gears. I wonder if I will ever hold a full round table in my life.

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