Cormo-Ranting

When I was a kid, people liked to compare me to the Tin Man. You know who the Tin Man is? Of course you do because everyone has been forced to watch Wizard of Oz, but in case you haven't, he's a likeness of a human being made out of scrap metal. And he has no heart. I've figured out recently why they compared me to that character.

I'm not a real person. I'm a fake approximation of one. And I certainly don't have any heart worth speaking of. All of my feelings are fake. They're fake. I might think they're real, but they're fake. I was born without all the things that make someone human. Sure, I've got organs and bones and skin and all that horseshit, but none of what really matters. I'm a walking shell that pretends it has meaning. I can't connect with others. I will never understand what anyone is feeling. Yeah, I might "feel" for other people, but what good is it if they'll never know because I can't show it? If there's any kind of creator out there, they made me as a mockery of humanity.

I want to feel. I want to be something real and alive. But I'm not and I can't be.