I have decided to start an internet diary, per the recommendation of my human peers.
I am assimilating to human life quite nicely. I have learned that my human vessel becomes flatulent when I consume dairy.
I did not want to attend my place of employment this morning because my vessel is malfunctioning. It is leaking fluids from the small exhausts on the face, and sneezing frequently. However, I considered the alternative methods of obtaining American currency (as that is the piece of land on which I currently reside). My vessel is not visually appealing nor athletic enough for the occupation they call “stripping,” I do not wish to sell body parts from the vessel, and my lying module is defective, so I cannot obtain currency through crime. It seems that the option of selling my time here on Earth performing labor in exchange for currency and health benefits (which also makes life on Earth a little easier), is optimal. Thus, I traveled to my place of employment to perform labor.
Earth is confusing, tiring, and I occasionally feel so torn away from the stars. Not much makes sense to me here. Like how humans respond to me differently when I paint my face and dress a certain way, versus when I simply clothe my vessel because Earth law prohibits nudity. Or how I cannot squish strangers to express love. Or how humans speculate about each other when asking the human questions, or not being concerned about what does not affect them at all, is easier on the mind.
But I return to my habitat every day, and see my companion mammal. He brings me joy. I enjoy touching his audio receptors because they are soft. He is strange, but very simple. Simple is good. Simple is easy to understand. Simple leaves no room for worry. My companion mammal loves me, and that never wavers.
I will return to my habitat and consume some cheese with my companion mammal, and be flatulent in peace in 1 hour and 20 minutes.
I am assimilating to human life quite nicely. I have learned that my human vessel becomes flatulent when I consume dairy.
I did not want to attend my place of employment this morning because my vessel is malfunctioning. It is leaking fluids from the small exhausts on the face, and sneezing frequently. However, I considered the alternative methods of obtaining American currency (as that is the piece of land on which I currently reside). My vessel is not visually appealing nor athletic enough for the occupation they call “stripping,” I do not wish to sell body parts from the vessel, and my lying module is defective, so I cannot obtain currency through crime. It seems that the option of selling my time here on Earth performing labor in exchange for currency and health benefits (which also makes life on Earth a little easier), is optimal. Thus, I traveled to my place of employment to perform labor.
Earth is confusing, tiring, and I occasionally feel so torn away from the stars. Not much makes sense to me here. Like how humans respond to me differently when I paint my face and dress a certain way, versus when I simply clothe my vessel because Earth law prohibits nudity. Or how I cannot squish strangers to express love. Or how humans speculate about each other when asking the human questions, or not being concerned about what does not affect them at all, is easier on the mind.
But I return to my habitat every day, and see my companion mammal. He brings me joy. I enjoy touching his audio receptors because they are soft. He is strange, but very simple. Simple is good. Simple is easy to understand. Simple leaves no room for worry. My companion mammal loves me, and that never wavers.
I will return to my habitat and consume some cheese with my companion mammal, and be flatulent in peace in 1 hour and 20 minutes.
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