goodbye in robot is still sad.

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[Dear you,]

I have pictures of my insides shoved inside a drawer somewhere in my house and I wonder what my stomach thinks when it has to get its picture taken. Does it wonder if the veins outlined on its sides look good? Does it worry that it blinked right when the flash went off? I'm sure it did. It's never even seen the light of day, after all. Maybe my stomach is blind.

My joints must be blind. They sound so old. They creak at night and it makes me worried I'll need to have them oiled. What if I need to have them replaced before I'm thirty? What if the aching isn't normal? What if a bolt is coming lose? I lost my tool kit sometime in the last month. I guess I have to find it if I want to repair myself.

There are broken bits floating around inside me. Bits of my lungs and of my heart. I've never seen my heart but I can hear it, cracking and popping in my chest each time it shudders into expanding and contracting. I sometimes give it encouragement. Little tidbits of things that might make it smile and believe it can keep pumping away. It probably needs more than sweet words, but that's all I have to give it.

Sometimes I accidentally let a piece of my brain fall out of my ear and it's always a struggle full of anxiety to get it back in fast enough. I really don't want to shut down early. I don't think I always put the pieces back where they belong. My memory chip is a bit faulty. But it works well enough and helps me to hold on to who I must be.

I don't know what it means to be human. I just know that it's hard.

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[It's hard being alive and here and real.] whoops Nelson I already used this line

I don't know how to react properly sometimes. How do you act when someone tells you they like you? How do you act when someone touches your sleeve? How do you act when someone tells you that you're pretty? I've got some of it figured out. I know how to make a smile. I know how to drink tea. Eating is a bit difficult, but I'm getting used to it. I like dancing sometimes. I like eating grilled cheese. I love my goldfish. I don't like doctors. Sometimes my expression slips and people get offended by what must be on my face. I don't know what it looks like. Mirrors scare me.

I can't see my veins and I wonder if they're even there beneath my skin. I can't hear a hollow bang when I hit my chest, but I think that's because there are too many wires in there. 

I suck at proving I'm not a robot.

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[Sincerely,]
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[xx]
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[Blue]