Checklist
When they placed every exquisitely coloured hair on your head, did they build your qualities to encompass grace, style, wit and a high degree of social etiquiette? Is it all some sort of competition for you, designed to make every possibility show your victory… and give the realists a glimpse of your somewhat missing morality?
Push, shove, roll. We’ve been waiting here for over an hour. We are fine specimens of the human race, therefore we deserve to win all of its battles and reign victorious over those strangely subordinate beings. It’s obvious you’d enjoy the winning more than the taking part, but in this life, would ten seconds of glory mean anything to a power-hungry machine?
I do not wish to appear so cheery; unfortunately at some points it is difficult to seem anything different. Part of the conditions of humanity written onto my skin dictates that I am unable to iterate exactly what I feel at any point - a condition which is both the most useful tool when wishing to hide, yet the most evil hindrance when wishing to vocalise and harmonise with humanity.
Awkwardness: check. Wish to listen: check. Complexity? Check check. A list of simple commands written onto a clean sheet of paper, yet only a few ticked boxes. Something simple, easy to follow and instruct in manner, yet a myriad of twists, turns and dead ends when entering the maze.
Most obviously, what is wished for never happens. Let’s take the last millenial years as an example. Blind faith in nothing? definitive. Desire to carry on with blind faith in nothing? Absolutely. It could not be deemed right any other way. There’s always a less-than-a-hundredth-of-a-percent chance that sight could be regained.
Upon the edge of that mortal precipice, a small nail has been ever-so-gently tapped into the soft chalky rock. A fraying jumper sleeve has caught on this nail, upon which I hang.
I shall wait there, until your forever is my today.
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