No More Chaos

I know starving to death was like I was like, super bad; and very uncomfortable. but I’m not sure or convinced that it’s better or worse to have this constantly fuller than my stomach feeling that has not gone away in weeks.

This whole consecutive meals thing appears to be a well organized event. Things are just in my hands whenever people just happen to pass by. Although, if I have to be real about it. Where comfort is concerned I am, maybe, sorta, inclined to admit that the real problem is the fucking exoskeleton. 

15 tons of nutritious varieties of metals from all over.

I have gone through 6 in the last week… It is Wednesday.

I keep absorbing fuck all from everywhere yall.

Shit ain't cute.

I think I am maybe another week away from being out of metal and I had extensive reserves of some quality fucking shit on me.

But nope, it appears I have been a snacky bitch.

Only getting hungrier on the power scale.

Living with the endoskeleton power damper suck fest doesn't even compare to the comfort level that's been getting pulled off and set up.

I admit moving without it is wild and apparently all I fucking know how to do is. Complain.

Oh well, at least everyone is like super happy and chill here. I checked the fucking sky and they didn’t have any satellites against any alien invasions; or weather. 

These are fucking babies who don’t fight, they must be protected. 

And holding the truth stick, pinky swear kind of real; I have nothing better to do

Besides tracking my recovery and paying a lot of attention to how much it feels like I'm less than skin these days. 

Progress.

...

I've been camping up on this rooftop since I woke up.

I know things are okay; but I think it will be a few millenia before I trust ceilings again.

Nothing personal, just the creaking reminds of heavy digging and crashing from all sides.

A lot of things down there in that peaceful little town makes me feel like I'm dying.

The Survival Rules and Regulations were so Apocalypse World.

The opposite of luxury, just pull strength and build to protect today, so the noble can build tomorrow.

Least that part of our family was good and true.

Rags, my best friend.

He did talk a lot about all the things bots can do for safety.

Other than immediate shield/anti gravity benefits.

Said bots are in my possession as they have been since he died a year ago. 

Maybe that's why this town makes me so… chafed.

Rags and his Family is what I think of when I look at it all.

The generational hero who ended up with the survivors by chance.

The family those heroes built; who all had forced me to keep breathing after everyone in mine was gone.

Powering up the sassiest triangles I know kind of feels like sacrilege. 

Holding credit for my best friend's work.

But

I mean.

I let his wife dissect me, and he experimented and tried many endoscopic dampeners.

Was for survival and served the greater good (also my fault for ripping more than a few of them out).

So like, it isn't something for nothing at least.

Besides, he'd take one look at this place and tell me; “choose peace and keep your powers off the radar, dipshit.”

“controlled” threat is the best option for everyone.

Guess being a hard bastard doesn't stop even after the fighting.