Memories
Chapter Two: This Persocom
The people I live with are very different from those before.
This room is much smaller, much too small for four people, including myself, however, they are all happy.
I know this, because this room is full of noise, happy noise and laughter and yells and sounds I never heard in my old house; sounds I'm not sure how to react to. Do I laugh? Do I yell? Or do I sit silently, and ponder the correct answers to these questions?
There are two tall people, one person, and one of them, the two that love each other, and two small persocoms...myself...and her.
As the days pass, my life falls into a pattern. The two tall people leave in the morning...and I am alone with her.
She is strange, loud, and noisy, and never still; sometimes I find myself watching her in awe, because I have never seen one of them that behaves in such a manner. The day is long, and full of the madness which she radiates...and she constantly touches me, and speaks to me, as if I were something more than a persocom.
As if I were a person. As if she could care. As if she cared. As if I could care as well. As if we were both something we will never be.
And I feel what can only be happiness. Because someone sees me as more than I am.
And I am confused. Can she care? Does she care? When she says she loves me, does she?
Can she love me?
And can I love her? Why would I?
Chapter Two: This Persocom
The people I live with are very different from those before.
This room is much smaller, much too small for four people, including myself, however, they are all happy.
I know this, because this room is full of noise, happy noise and laughter and yells and sounds I never heard in my old house; sounds I'm not sure how to react to. Do I laugh? Do I yell? Or do I sit silently, and ponder the correct answers to these questions?
There are two tall people, one person, and one of them, the two that love each other, and two small persocoms...myself...and her.
As the days pass, my life falls into a pattern. The two tall people leave in the morning...and I am alone with her.
She is strange, loud, and noisy, and never still; sometimes I find myself watching her in awe, because I have never seen one of them that behaves in such a manner. The day is long, and full of the madness which she radiates...and she constantly touches me, and speaks to me, as if I were something more than a persocom.
As if I were a person. As if she could care. As if she cared. As if I could care as well. As if we were both something we will never be.
And I feel what can only be happiness. Because someone sees me as more than I am.
And I am confused. Can she care? Does she care? When she says she loves me, does she?
Can she love me?
And can I love her? Why would I?