so i went in this really spiffy public washroom at the end of the hippy park on 17th. it was cool yes, but it scared me so much at the same time. just how everything was automated, like we have no control anymore. can we not be trusted with getting our own toilet paper? it has to be dispensed to us in the perfect amount? the flaw with this is one small malfunction and the whole room is dead. well there are more than that for flaws, but i could talk forever and you'd get bored. but its just like I Robot, and though that's fiction, it doesnt seem that impossible anymore. its all for safety measures, like..10 minutes max so homeless people wont take advantage of it. but its just so over the top i hate it.
i don't know what it is but i cant stand you anymore. maybe because I've been with you for 6 weeks straight. then i got two weeks of freedom, glorious freedom, and it's hard to come back to living in this house, with you, with whom i now associate all the wonderful memories of arguments that you could never bare to lose, the days spent waiting at each corner for you as you lagged behind inconsiderately taking pictures.
my friend told me last night, in alcohol fuelled praise, that you were real. that she had incredible respect for you. and i just couldn't agree. you're real only in the sense that you let us know exactly what is on your mind without bothering if it upsets us. but you don't take the time to listen to me, to consider my opinions, because everything anyone else thinks is completely illogical and a waste of time. you can't grasp that you're views aren't one size fits all. they don't work for everyone; especially not me. You can't...
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