My Life as a Machine: Real Friends

I always think I have friends, people who can stand with you through anything. But when school is over and the break comes up, I’m alone again. I’m not afraid of being alone right now. I’m only afraid of having no one to turn to at the end of the day.

Most of my life, I have been alone. I can lend my lonely childhood to the ignorance of other children. I knew I was different, I just didn’t know why. It didn’t matter what I did. There was no fitting in for me, and when I tried to force myself into the box, I was shaken out of it like a kitten being shooed from its former shelter. Nobody told me it was because I was a machine. Nobody said it was ok to be different. The only person who believed I was special was my father, but he turned out to be a different type of machine. He was a master to himself and himself only.

I remember reflecting on why I didn’t have friends. I thought that speaking like a machine was enough. It wasn’t. I thought it was this or that, and it wasn’t anything. The rest of the world–even the world of machines–didn’t accept me because I was too different. Now that I look back, they were scared of me. I mean, why strike when it wasn’t provoked? Out of fear.

And now that I think about it, a part of me wished I took a hold of their fear and ran it down their throats. I have a vindictive nature, but my conscience wouldn’t allow me the satisfaction. In those times, I felt like I was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. But if it weren’t for the sheep’s clothing, people and machines wouldn’t have felt the need to walk over me. When I accepted the wolf in me, people didn’t dare put a careless limb in front of my path.

But maybe it’s that wolf side of me that hasn’t made friends. I can still feel the divide–like I’m too different again–between me and my “friends”. I’m not really a wolf, though. I only take on the qualities so people can’t step on me again. It’s not that I’ve built my entire personality or persona on being this incontrovertible machine. I have a soul.

It’s just that I wonder who my real friends are.