Old Short Stories

Message

He shook his head and ruffled his hair in a vain attempt to make it look presentable, at best. His eyes held little emotion, and just seemed tired, despite having no iris.

His reality was bad. Bad, bad, bad. He was always tired, as if he hadn't been fully charged. Always so empty feeling, and if not, he was sad.

It seemed like a simple programming bug, and he had asked his caretakers for it to be diagnosed and fixed, but they shot him down, saying he wasn't mature, and was seeking attention. That had led to a very bad night.

One emotion he knew was admiration, and love. He had fallen for a girl, and they had been together. Was he happy? He thinks so, but happiness is weird and his memory is spotty right now.

He locked eyes with himself in the mirror, and instantly regretted it. He'd always hated his own eyes, but maybe he could fix that. Maybe he could get better.

He allowed his mind to wander, blind to it.

His thoughts drifted through different memories, thoughts, feelings he couldn't describe..

Until he settled on memories. He could not see them, a faulty with his core programs, but he could hear them.

He smiled as his mind drifted through them, now wandering around tge house, looking for his things. A grey hoodie, a soft coloured t-shirt underneath, and some worn but comfortable sweats. He got dresed and smiled. Feeling the dampness of this morning beginning to fade. It was still there, threatening to leap onto him and devour the feeling of calm and content that he currently had.

He looked around and grabbed four sharpies, before pulling his sleeve up to his elbow joint.

He uncapped the black one and wrote one word on his synthetic skin.

He put the cap back on before grabbing the next. A red sharpie. This one got one letter.

Next marker, blue.

Final one, was green.

He glanced at it once more, recapped the green sharpie, and set them all down. He readjusted his sleeve, grabbed his backpack and ran out the door. The message written on his wrist floating in the back of his head, keeping the fuzzy dampness that was this morning at bay.

A message he'd learned form one of his idols, and tge colours he'd chosen reiterates it.

Have PMA.

----
I had a bad day, and I did that. I wrote have pma on my wrist.
Blue sharpie- Ethan
Red- Mark
Green- Jack.

They're all huge inspirations to me, and they cheer me up on the worst days.

Yeah.

By the way, the charater for this little drabble was actually my persona! It'sss Mason, boyes!

He's an android, because I thought it kinda fits me. Theres a lot of days where I feel like a robot, made to be human but yet only just impersonating them.

Yeh.

Yeeeehhhhhhhhh.