Nice to have notions of beauty, humility and art. People say you are rosy like a tree orchid as the candy coated shell you're in malfunctions and destroys itself, my synthetic organs in their constant state of revolt. It's tiresome, this strange electric dance and caustic wires, a psychiatric clinic and faces that no longer smile or even look at you, everyone is data now. I am unbearably alone, plastic and designed to be perfect. I said people resemble barn owls, it's because my chipsets and processor tends to paint everything the way it really looks, my graphics cards and storage houses become castles or cathedrals, a syrupy black tar sea appears and the prettiest girl you've ever seen in a cafΓ© reading a novel, this is it, a small moment of bliss in a single day of unnecessary pain and mechanical confusion, genuine heartache and unending grief, an entire grave of sadness, old memories and deleted logs, this small moment is Christ's paradise, I cherish it and I am grateful, you may turn me off now.