INTP Life

We're not robots... ?

It's weird. I don't even class myself as human anymore, after like all my friends decided to call me "robot", "computer", "walking meme", etc... 

(YES I HAVE FRIENDS IT'S AMAZING ISN'T IT, DID I SURPRISE YOU)

And so, when I say 'humans' now, it's like other people saying 'peasants'. 

But really, we are human. Maybe. Like, we aren't robots. Because robots can't adapt, and they don't have friends. (so maybe Sherlock wasn't human... who knows?) Also, I'd be bummed out if I was a robot, because that means people made me. Out of wires and stuff. To work for them. And that's a weird thought, and I was NOT made to work for people (oh yeah, we INTPs don't recognise authority very easily, and we don't respect people who don't earn our respect, so, hello authority issues). 

Idk. I feel like I'm just an abstract little piece of nonmatter floating around, moving into other peoples lives if I feel like it, and just 'being'. It's like the world goes on, and I'm just the casual observer from the outside, not like spectator ions in a precipitation reaction, but like the DNA left by someones hand on the outside, watching what's happening inside the tube that contains everyone elses lives. 

And yes, I don't know what to do with my life. That's why I'm writing aimlessly on Wattpad.

"I know what it's like to be afraid of your own mind."

                                                              - Spencer Reid, from Criminal Minds.

Sorry. I don't even know why I made this chapter. Today must be one of my weird days. Don't leave. I'll post some better content later, maybe. XD :D