The aliens and the robots

It's currently 6am. I am drunk, but feel as if it's the right time to write. Sometimes, I believe myself to be an alien, in a world of robots. Inherently different. The organs that writhe, and move within my system, they scare me. Compared to the cogs in the machines that run wild among this world. I want to feel. I am not afraid of saying so, of saying that I want to experience emotions, so powerful they shake my very bones, the emotions that fuel the fire in my brain. Every time I look into the eyes of another person, I see nothing. The cold grey lifeless ebb that flows within their iris. As if I cannot ever feel the way they do, something inside my soul could never touch their emotions, or realness that they, themselves, experience. That, my friends, is what scares me the most. I like to bare my emotions in my writings, but sometimes writing is not enough to encapsulate the immense pressure one has in their core. So live like nothing matters, because time is a limited sentence for us. Nothing ever matters, anymore.