Of machine and human

There was a time, over half my life ago, that I wanted to be machine. Not a machine, necessarily, but Machine.  Interacting–or my meager attempts to–with the people around me sent me the undeniable message that I did not belong amongst humans.

Not having known that there were others out there who are similar, I simply felt as though I were standing on the edge of an island, or perhaps the moon, looking out into an eternal abyss.  There was Them, and there was Me.  I didn’t belong with Them–that much I knew.

Given that the people around me were my only known examples of humanity, and given the fact that I felt alienated from them, I used deductive reasoning to calculate that I would be better off as Non-Human.  The antithesis of human was Machine.  Therefore, that must be my answer.

Yet, I had many traits of being human.  I had all the necessary parts and elements.  Except for one thing: that being human was uncomfortable.  A human is expected to do human things and interact with other humans.  And I was having a surprisingly difficult time doing this.

Of course, I didn’t like my humanness.  I didn’t appreciate having biological needs (like eating and sleeping) and emotional vulnerabilities (like being hurt by rejection or teasing or abandonment or criticism).  I hated the part of me that craved human connection and got burned when it didn’t materialize.

To be machine, therefore, would be to take the easy way out, but I saw no shame in that.  I only saw insurmountable difficulties and personal challenges when I tried to do what came effortlessly to others.  With machines, the picture was simpler, the interactions drama-free, the cause and effect perfect.  The scripts were clean and predictable.

I wished I didn’t need a hug or validation or praise or recognition or social contact.  I hated being sensitive.  I hated being different, and I tried on many costumes–external and internal–to hide my spongy insides.  I despised my weaknesses, my feelings, my wants, and the risks I was willing to take to get those human needs met.

The world can be vampiric.  And I couldn’t stand being drained.  I wanted to be a maze of ABS plastic and metal, with electric current that held up as long as I was plugged in.

Now, I have been shown a third way.  It’s no longer a question of being human or machine; I can be both, with more emphasis on what I had found so difficult and treacherous before: human.  Because now I’m not necessarily alone on an island anymore.  I’ve realized that I haven’t been marooned by life, the universe, and everything after all. I’ve been shown an explanation of who I am and for why I am the way I am.  Life, it seems, is not entirely binary.

My kind of human is valid.  And I think I’m starting to get comfortable with it.

***

(Image Credit: Awaissoft)

❤

❤

❤