I still have days where everything feels wrong
I lost my place in the world
I have no purpose
No one would notice if I disappeared
I’m invisible to everyone
I’ve made no significant impact in the world or in anyone’s life
No one cares what I think or feel
I should just give up because nothing matters
And then The Woman sends me a message
All those thoughts vanish
A young mech came to my store
Asking for a copy of Oiled Gears Magazine
“You gotta have three upgrades to buy that.”
“Come on Steve. My last upgrade is in the mail.
I’m practically old enough.”
I scanned his serial number
“One upgrade required.
Come back next week, Wallace.”
I think the humans called that adolescence
From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.